


Familiar Faces

by Sinsational (Suukarin)



Series: Brotherswap [1]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Underswap, Drunk Sex, Dry Humping, Ecto-Genitalia (Undertale), Ecto-Penis (Undertale), Ecto-Vagina (Undertale), HoneyKetchup, It ends very poorly for him, M/M, Oops, References to Undertale Genocide Route, Sans Remembers Resets, Sans resets the timeline, Sensitive bones, Slow Build, Suicide Attempt, Underswap Alphys - Freeform, Underswap Muffet, Underswap Papyrus, Underswap Sans, Underswap Undyne - Freeform, underswap papyrus/undertale sans
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-05
Updated: 2017-08-01
Packaged: 2018-07-29 10:49:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 67,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7681459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suukarin/pseuds/Sinsational
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just reset the timeline and protect his brother from the human -- that's all Sans asked for. How hard could that be?</p>
<p>Evidently, Sans realizes as he stares into the face of a familiar stranger, harder than he thought.<br/>(<b>Cover in Chapter One is credited to Buttercupsticks on Tumblr</b>)</p>
<p>Arc I: Saudade (Chapters 1-11)<br/>Arc II: Acclimation (Chapters 12-17)<br/>Arc III: (Re)Connections (Chapters 18-)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Reset

**Author's Note:**

> Apologizing in advance for a very short and probably unthrilling first chapter, but I had to get it out there so I can get the story rolling, right?

He thought that for all the power it was supposed to bring him, absorbing a human soul would make Sans feel… _different._ But aside from finding himself standing in a void, when just moments ago he’d been in the judgement hall, he feels no physical changes… no sudden rush of power… just worn out, exactly as he’d been following his battle with the human.

He would almost feel like he’d been ripped off, were he not eye-to-eye with his goal -- six white characters, floating in the darkness.

**_R E S E T ?_ **

“Heh… so this is what the power to play God looks like, huh?” he chuckles, entirely to himself. “For how badly you abused it, kid, I thought it’d be a little more… dramatic. Not that it matters to me at all…”

With one hand, Sans tugs down the red scarf tied around his neck, letting his perpetual smile finally reveal itself once more.

“...I only need to do this once.”

He reaches out, his hand pressing against the **_S_ ** like a large button, and stands up straight once more as the word slowly begins to fade. Soon after, the ground softens beneath his feet, and Sans feels the uncomfortably familiar feeling of the world rewinding around him.

“Sorry, old lady,” the skeleton shrugs, letting his eyes close as he grips the scarf around his neck. “I know I promised that I’d protect any human that came out of the ruins. But after seeing what they did…...I’ve got more important people to protect. ...I’m sure you’d understand, if they’d spared you long enough to see.”

Even in the darkness of the void, Sans can feel the climate changing around him -- first hot and dry, then unbearably humid.

 _i’ve already rewound all the way through hotland, huh…? snowdin must be coming up soon, then,_ Sans figures, preparing himself for the familiar gentle drop at his sentry station. _sorry, pap… i know you wanted to see a human. but i can’t -- i_ **_won’t_ ** _lose you again, papyrus, no matter--_

The void around him lurches suddenly, and Sans topples forward, crying out.

“Wh-What the--?!”

Before he can recover, he hears the thunderous _crack_ coming from all around, surrounding him…

He looks down to see the void fracturing beneath him.

“N -- no, no no _no, no--_ ”

Panicked, Sans claws at the ground, trying to hold it together as though his determination alone could piece the void back into a whole--

The crack beneath him rips open, and Sans plummets into it, screaming as he falls.


	2. Uncanny Valley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _In aesthetics the **uncanny valley** is the hypothesis that human replicas that appear almost but not exactly like real human beings elicits feelings of eeriness and revulsion among some observers._

_ “You shouldn’t have let your guard down so soon, haha~” _

_ He staggers back a couple steps, hand still pressed hard over his ribs. _

_ He doesn’t need to look down to know what’s leaking out of his bones. _

_ “Still… that time was hardly any fun, wasn’t it?” the human hums, casually inspecting their bloodstained knife as Sans falls to one knee. “I think you had at least four more rounds in you…” _

_ They brush the dust off their free hand, and Sans swears he can see their eyes flash red-- _

_ “Try not to die so quick this time, okay?” _

Sans wakes up gasping for air, eyesockets wide and hollow as the sensation of the timeline rewinding around him almost follows him into consciousness.

Instead of the golden walls of the judgement hall, he finds himself staring at a vaguely purplish ceiling, paint peeling away in certain spots. Instead of the cold tile floor, he feels himself half-sunk into an incredibly lumpy couch.

Instead of the human’s high-pitched giggle, Sans hears the high-pitched whine of TV static.

_...am i… _

His whole body inexplicably sore, Sans has to push himself up to look around the room…

The TV is on, with the familiar message of  _ “STAY TUNED FOR MORE PROGRAMMING!” _ plastered on the screen. On the endtable, he catches the glimpse of his red-covered book, cover still lightly coated in a layer of harmless dust.

The pet rock on the table even has a fresh dashing of sprinkles.

“... I… I did it…”

With a weak laugh, Sans closes his eyes, letting relief wash over him for the first time in what feels like forever.

_ i did it, _ he chuckles to himself, closing his eyes and savoring the feeling.  _ i did it…  _

From upstairs, Sans hears the sound of a door opening, soon followed by a familiar set of footsteps descending the stairs. He reaches up, as though to wipe the exhaustion from his face before finally greeting his brother for what feels like the first time.

His fingers brush against the scarf still wrapped tightly around his neck.

_ w -- what-- _

“Oh, you finally up, bro?”

With a start, Sans opens his eyes--

“You were out for quite a while, heh. Guess that fall took more out of you than I thought.”

The face is the same,  _ exactly _ the same, and he would know that voice from any timeline -- but his speech, his posture, his  _ clothes... _

“... P… Papyrus…?”

“Papyrus” chuckles, leaning over briefly to rub Sans’ head with his bony hand before he slips into the kitchen.

Sans’ hollowed gaze follows after him, fixed on the orange hoodie his “brother” now wears.

“Gotta say, wasn’t expecting you to ‘drop in’ on me quite so literally,” “Papyrus” comments, and Sans can hear what sounds like someone shuffling through the cupboards. “Good thing there was all that snow to break your fall, huh? Still, you  _ did _ leave a dent in my sentry station… does this mean I get a few days off until it’s fixed? Heh.”

The tall skeleton reemerges from the kitchen, and Sans catches a glimpse of him slipping an amber-colored bottle into the pocket of his cargo shorts.

“Still… I’m curious,” he continues as he leans against the table, his voice still conspicuously missing all the high-strung intensity Sans expects. “What the hell kinda trouble were you getting into this time that put you so far away from town, anyway? And, maybe more importantly…”

He reaches into his hoodie pocket and pulls out a half-empty pack of cigarettes.

“...what’s with the new duds, huh?”

It isn’t until he watches the tall skeleton light his cigarette that Sans finally looks down at himself, as though hoping to have maybe woken up in the wrong body. But his blue, unzipped hoodie is still the same as ever, as are the black-and-white shorts covering his legs.

Even the scarf around his neck is the same vibrant red as before.

_ but… if i still have this, then… then he can’t be…  _

Bony fingers curling into the ragged red cloth, Sans inhales, then looks up, forcing himself to look at…

“...is that you… Papyrus…?”

The tall skeleton tilts his head a little, then takes a long drag of his cigarette, his face twisted into a half-grin.

“Sure is, bro,” he chuckles, one hand holding the edge of the table. “Who else would I be?”

Sans doesn’t hear the small retching sound emanating from his own throat as he clutches his head, mind racing.

_ no, no, there has to be some mistake -- papyrus, he, he doesn’t… this isn’t how he-- _

He feels a weight settling on the couch, and looks up -- then scrambles back when he sees “Papyrus” sitting by him, browbones furrowed.

“Hey… what happened, bro?” the tall skeleton asks, knocking the ash off the end of his cigarette. “I’ve never seen you this shaken up before. Did you run into something in the forest…?”

Before Sans can even try to think of a response, “Papyrus’” eyes narrow, just a bit.

“Was it a human?”

The bottom drops out from under Sans’ stomach.

“ _...what do you know? _ ”

He sees it immediately -- the way every feature of his not-brother’s face freezes; how his whole body locks up so that he’s no longer resting on the couch, but rather against it. 

Just as it crosses Sans’ mind to vanish--

“What are you hiding from me, Sans?”

“...wh… what…?”

The sound of his own name locks him in place, even as the skeleton with his brother’s name reaches over, firmly placing a bony hand on Sans’ shoulder.

Something about the touch softens him, just a bit, and Sans finds himself examining the perplexed look of concern on the other skeleton’s face.

“You know you can trust me with anything, right, Sans?” “Papyrus” asks, as though reaffirming an old fact. “You’re my brother, after all. If something’s wrong, you need to tell me…”

_ “...BECAUSE IF I DON’T KNOW, THEN I CAN’T HELP YOU, CAN I,SANS? AND WHAT KIND OF BROTHER WOULD I BE, THEN…” _

Despite himself, Sans mumbles along, numbly:

“...if I didn’t help you when you needed me?”

He only vaguely takes note of the shock on the other’s face as he slowly uncurls his clenched fists from the scarf around his neck.

“...I’ve… heard this before,” Sans croaks weakly, staring at his hands. “I know I have…”

“Well, yeah,” “Papyrus” chuckles, though not as lightly as before. “I only tell you every time you try to keep a secret from me--”

“Not… from you, though. Not like this, not…”

For a moment, Sans closes his eyes. But when he opens them again, he looks at the bony hand on his shoulder, eyes following the arm all the way up to its owner.

Upon closer inspection, he realizes that the face isn’t quite right to be his brother; something about the creases in his eyesockets and the way the corners of his jaw turn are a little too worn down, a little too  _ mature _ , almost, to be his Papyrus. But the rough shape of his features are correct, and even if the tone’s not the same, the voice is his, no bones about it.

The clothes, though… 

Sans reaches out, his fingertips hooking on the neckline of the other skeleton’s orange pullover hoodie.

It’s definitely there. And it’s definitely not the “armor” his brother had been wearing last time Sans saw him.

“Hm…? Trying to figure out how to copy my style better for next time, bro…?”

The tall skeleton’s attempt at a joke is met with silence as the words trigger a thought train in Sans’ mind.

_ “Heh… Papyrus, why are you wearing my hoodie? It looks ridiculous on you.” _

_ “WELL, HOW ELSE AM I SUPPOSED TO LOOK AS COOL AS MY COOL BROTHER?” _

Sans’ eyes flick over this Papyrus’ body, trying to pinpoint why his clothes, why his words, make him feel like… like…

“...like a mirror…”

“Hm? What was that, Sans?”

He quickly lets go of the other’s hoodie, mind racing.

That’s what it is; it’s not perfect, but looking at this Papyrus reminds Sans of standing in front of a mirror. Only, he’s not seeing his own reflection -- he’s not even really seeing his brother’s. It’s more like someone took Sans -- took his style, took his attitude -- and stretched them out until they fit over Papyrus, then recolored the whole thing as if nobody would notice the difference. Like a bad mix-up.

Like a swap.

“Hey.”

Sans jolts a bit when he feels a hand on his chin, and looks up to see Papyrus staring intently at him, the cigarette between his teeth slowly smoldering down to the filter.

“You alright…?” Papyrus asks, and Sans can hear the cautious tone in his voice. “You’re acting really strange… not like yourself. What happened?”

Sans forces himself to take a deep breath, then silently curls his hands into his t-shirt as he forces as much of a smile as he can.

“H-Hey, uh… I’m gonna… ask a couple questions, alright?” he asks, his voice ringing almost hollow. “And, uh… they’re probably gonna sound like obvious questions, but… just answer ‘em for me, okay? Please?”

Papyrus frowns, but leans back a bit, as though waiting for Sans to begin.

“...so… we’re… trapped underground, right?” he starts, fumbling for the right words. “Waiting for… the seventh human soul, yeah?”

“Yeah....?” Papyrus answers, giving Sans a confused look.

“...who’s collecting the souls?”

Papyrus blinks in surprise, unable to suppress a small disbelieving laugh.

“Queen Toriel, of course,” the tall skeleton replies, pulling up his legs to sit cross-legged on the couch.

_ toriel...? _

“O-Okay, um… if that’s the case, then… who’s the royal scientist?” Sans continues, hoping to get a name he’ll at least recognize.

“Sans, what’s this about--”

“ _ Who’s the royal scientist? _ ”

Papyrus sighs heavily, a puff of smoke escaping through his teeth as he does so.

“It’s Undyne, Sans,” he replies, with all the patience of a frazzled older brother humoring a sibling’s foolishness.

_ wait,  _ **_undyne_ ** _ is the royal scientist…?! but then… surely not-- _

“If she’s… then… who’s the head of the Royal Guard?” Sans stammers, knowing for sure it couldn’t possibly be--

“ _ Alphys _ is, Sans -- which reminds me, she’s worried as all hell about you,” Papyrus interrupts the shorter skeleton’s thoughts. “Apparently you two were supposed to have some of your secret Royal Guard training today, so if you want, I can help you come up with excuses later about why you didn’t show up.”

He feels the room start spinning slowly around him.

“... m…  _ my _ training…? N… not yours…?”

“Well,  _ I’m _ not the one that wants to be in the Royal Guard, Sans,” Papyrus raises a browbone at Sans as he rubs the back of his head. “Will you just  _ tell me _ what’s going on, please?”

Sans’ vision darkens around the edges as he feels his eyes hollow out.

“S-Sans--?! Are you alright--!?”

“H-Hey, Papyrus…” Sans interrupts, his voice an empty laugh as he ignores the other skeleton’s alarm at seeing his pupils vanish. “...can you… do that thing? The, uh, the one with your eye…?”

Papyrus frowns, unable to hide the panic and confusion from his face.

“...you hate it when I do that, though,” he says, shaking his head ever so slightly. “You told me it creeps you out, remember? That it, uh--”

“...makes you think something bad’s about to happen… right?”

Sans’ hands finally let go of his t-shirt, and slide down to instead grip his knees, as though bracing himself.

“Funny, ‘cause, uh… that’s what  _ my _ bro said to me, too,” he rambles on, closing his eyes briefly, almost not even noticing Papyrus right in front of him. “ _ Nothing good ever happens when you do the glowy thing, brother,’ _ those were his exact words. And, well, uh… the thing about my bro is...”

He opens his left eye, and, through the haze of blue, sees the exact moment that realization sets in for Papyrus.

“...he’s not often wrong about that sort of thing, heh-- _ urk!! _ ”

Sans’ body lurches forward as he feels a yank on his soul, straight into Papyrus’ hands -- which instantly grab the smaller skeleton’s hoodie in a death grip.

“ _ Who are you? _ ” Papyrus seethes, his own right eye lighting up in bright orange. “ _ And what did you do to my brother? _ ”

“I didn’t do anything to your brother!” Sans wheezes, clawing at his chest as though it would loosen Papyrus’ crushing hold on his fragile soul. “I -- I don’t even know how I wound up here, okay?! All I tried to do was reset the timeline so--”

“Reset?”

Sans snaps out of his magic trance as the grip on his soul tightens.

“P -- Papyrus, I c-can’t br--”

“ _ You’re _ the one that’s been resetting the timeline?!” Papyrus snarls over Sans’ feeble pleading. “What, are our lives just a  _ game _ to you?! You think you can make us relive our lives over and over for your own sick amusement--”

“C-Can’t  _ breathe-- _ ”

“And now you think you can take my  _ brother _ from me like I’m just gonna  _ sit here?! _ ”

_ let me go, _ Sans mouths, unable to eke out more than a strangled gasp as the world grows dark around him, sweat already beading on his forehead,  _ please let me go, i can’t breathe, i can’t-- _

“I’m not letting you go anywhere until you tell me where... my…”

The next thing Sans remembers is opening his eyes to find himself staring at the ceiling once more, his head resting on a bony leg.

“...what....?”

“Ah, you awake, kiddo?”

He cranes his head back just a bit, and finds that the leg his head is resting on is attached to Papyrus.

But it’s still not his brother looking back at him with a relieved expression.

“Thank God,” Papyrus chuckles lightly before looking away, his hand shaking as he takes another drag of a half-smoked cigarette. “You… you didn’t dust, but when you didn’t wake up right away, I thought I’d…”

He goes quiet, then, as the smoke slowly billows out from his mouth and nasal cavity, Papyrus leans back, gingerly placing his hand on Sans’ forehead; it’s still not his brother’s touch, but Sans finds himself relaxing softly anyway, his tired body sinking a little more into the couch.

“...you… you’re still Sans… yeah?” he hears Papyrus ask in between puffs of his cigarette. “You’re not my brother, but… that  _ is _ your name… right?”

He starts to nod, but when the dull, throbbing ache in his skull stops him from moving, Sans merely lets out a small grunt of acknowledgement.

“...heh.”

Sans hears the sound of Papyrus grinding the end of his cigarette into the table, then feels the taller skeleton shift, reaching into his hoodie pocket to pull out the pack once more.

“...damn, down to my last one already? Thought I had more than that,” Papyrus grumbles, taking out the last smoke before crumpling the pack in his hand and throwing it on the floor. “You smoke, kid?”

“Uh-uh,” Sans shakes his head, then immediately regrets moving. “I mean, uh… no. I don’t smoke.”

“No? ...s’probably for the best. I wouldn’t want to have to fight you for this last cig.”

He watches as Papyrus bites the filter lightly and, with his free hand, lights up the cigarette, setting his lighter down before deeply inhaling.

“...does your brother smoke?” Sans finds himself asking, his voice oddly worn out.

“My bro...? ...Nah, he wouldn’t be caught dead smoking,” the tall skeleton shakes his head. “He thinks it’s a disgusting habit. Makes it fun to tease him about it, though, heh.”

Sans closes his eyes briefly, and reaches up to rest one hand over his neck.

His bony fingers curl loosely into the red scarf.

“...heh… that’s pretty much how my brother is about me eating greasy foods.”

Papyrus doesn’t say anything, but Sans can feel the hand on his skull press a little more firmly.

“...I only reset it once.”

“Hm?”

He takes a deep breath, feeling the other’s eyesockets fix on him, before he continues.

“You, uh…  _ kindly _ asked if I was the one resetting timelines,” Sans repeats, opening his eyes to meet Papyrus’ stare. “I dunno how the resets where I’m from affect the timeline here, but… I only tried messing with it once. I was… trying to fix something.”

His hands quietly tighten their grip on the scarf around his neck.

“ You can, uh… see the results of that yourself.”

Despite himself, Sans lets out a small, hollow laugh, but quiets down as Papyrus’ neutral stare shifts into a small frown.

The cigarette dangling between his teeth has already almost burned itself out.

“... you… haven’t eaten much lately, have you?”

“Huh?”

Papyrus takes the cigarette from his teeth and taps the end against the endtable, knocking off the excess ash.

“You look like you’ve been through hell, kiddo,” the taller skeleton says, nonchalant as he can. “And as far as I know, hell ain’t exactly known for its cuisine. When was the last time you ate?”

Sans blinks, then frowns softly.

“...you’re the older brother, aren’tcha?”

“Just answer the question, kiddo.”

Sans sighs, but lets his hands gently come to rest over where his stomach would be.

“...I could… really go for a burger right now,” he admits quietly, looking away from Papyrus’ face.

“Heh. Well… there may not be burgers, but Muffet’s ain’t a bad place to get something to eat. You up for a little walk? It’ll be my treat. At this time of day, it’s probably  pretty quiet… or I can pick something up instead, if you want. I know I got a takeout menu  _ somewhere _ in my room.”

If Papyrus notices Sans’ hands clenching into his t-shirt, he doesn’t say anything about it.

“...no, that’s… that’s fine. Maybe it’ll help if I get out of this house.”

“If you’re sure. C’mon, then.”

He feels Papyrus’ hands shift to his behind his shoulders, then slowly push him up into a sitting position.

For a split second, Sans almost expects to be picked up and carried up to his room, but instead Papyrus stands up, idly tugging on the drawstring for his orange hoodie.

“You gonna be alright to make it there, kiddo?” he asks, watching as Sans very slowly turns to hang his legs over the side of the couch. “It ain’t that far of a walk, but…”

Sans silently pulls his hood over his face before pushing himself to his feet, wobbling a bit as he does so but still standing on his own.

“...I’ll be fine,” he mutters, shoving his hands into his hoodie pockets. “...let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge shout-out to my two wonderful Undertrash friends for being my soundboard for ideas. I may be physically writing it, but this probably wouldn't be happening without them.


	3. Jamais Vu

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In psychology, _**jamais vu**_ (from French, meaning "never seen") is the phenomenon of experiencing a situation that one recognizes in some fashion, but that nonetheless seems very unfamiliar.
> 
> Often described as the opposite of déjà vu, jamais vu involves a sense of eeriness and the observer's impression of seeing the situation for the first time, despite rationally knowing that he or she has been in the situation before.

“C’mon, kiddo, it’s cold out here. At least scoot over a bit, will ya?”

Snapping out of his momentary stupor, Sans shuffles to the side, letting Papyrus in from the snowy outdoors.

He’d hoped, seeing the building from afar, that there would be at least slightly more than a passing resemblance to Grillby’s; that maybe -- hoping against hope -- once he stepped inside, he’d see the Royal Dogs yammering away at the tables. That he’d overhear Big Mouth mumbling about human food in the far booth once again. That he’d hear Drunk Bun asking “Sansy” to liven the place up once more.

That he’d see Grillby standing behind the bar, cleaning the same glass as always, as though waiting for his return.

“Where do you wanna sit?” Papyrus asks, lightly tapping his fingers against Sans’ arm. “I normally sit at the bar, but since you’re my guest, I’ll let you pick.”

Sans doesn’t respond right away, but he looks around from under his hood, trying to find any semblance of familiarity in this strange place. The lights are much dimmer than he’s used to, but he can tell that the dogs huddled at the corner table playing cards are much quieter than the ones back home. He can tell that the bar is empty -- and, save for the one stool cushion that’s more conspicuously squashed than the rest, figures that it usually is.

He can tell, without a doubt, that this is definitely not Grillby’s.

“I know there’s an awful lot of choices, but, uh… we’re not gonna get service if we keep standing here, kiddo,” Papyrus mutters, just loud enough to get Sans’ attention once more.

“Ah… sorry,” Sans mumbles, finally focusing enough to search for an empty booth. “Um… let’s just… sit back here, I guess.”

Papyrus follows Sans’ lead, and waits patiently for the shorter skeleton to pick which booth bench to sit on before casually sliding onto the other.

Sans can’t remember the last time he didn’t sit at the bar, much less at a booth.

“You look like you’ve got something on your mind,” Papyrus comments, putting his arms over the backrest and slouching in his bench.

“N-No, not really,” Sans shakes his head, once again looking around. “I guess… I just…”

His eyes catch sight of the spider-like light fixtures mounted on the maroon walls, the end of each wiry leg lit up in a soft purple light. Strange smells fill the air, yet he can’t shake the feeling that there’s something distinctly missing.

“...I just expected something… different, I guess.”

Papyrus lets out a quiet chuckle, then reaches into his hoodie pocket with one hand, as though searching for something.

“...damn, that’s right… already smoked my last one back at the house,” he grumbles, deciding instead to rub the back of his head. “Man… must be getting old if I can’t even remember that far back, eh? Heh.”

Something about the way he says it brings a small frown to Sans’ face, and he starts--

“Sitting way in the back like I won’t notice you when you come in? I think this is the first time you’ve  _ known _ you were in trouble, Papyrus~”

He hears the soft grind of plastic wheels on wooden flooring, and looks over just in time to see her coming -- a short girl in a purple three-piece ensemble, minus a jacket. Her violet hair is pulled back into two short bun-like pigtails, clearing her face so that her five slitted eyes can clearly see.

Sans notices all this only after he recovers from the sight of her six spindly arms.

“Oh, hey there, Muffet,” Papyrus greets casually, the corners of his jaw turning upwards into a smile. “Sorry I didn’t swing by earlier, I was--”

“Busy getting my money, I should hope,” Muffet interrupts, her voice sickly-sweet as she casually lays two of her left hands on Papyrus’ shoulder and arm. “You see, Papy dearie, I did a little math last night, and… well. Remember that number I gave you for your tab last time you were here?”

Papyrus’ expression remains neutral, even as Muffet’s delicate hands grab his hoodie in an unnaturally powerful grip.

“You can go ahead and add an extra zero onto that number~”

“Jeez, that bad, huh?” Papyrus chuckles, even as the spider blinks all her eyes at him, one by one. “Alright, alright, I’ll get you your money--”

“ _ Tonight? _ ”

“...Can I at least treat my little bro to dinner before you shake me down for everything I’ve got?”

Muffet pauses, then stands up a little straighter before she lets go of Papyrus’ orange hoodie.

It isn’t until all five of her eyes are fixed on Sans that she lets out an excited squeal, her middle set of hands clasping over her mouth excitedly.

“ _ Sans! _ You’re  _ here! _ ” she exclaims, nearly sliding into the booth herself as she wraps the stunned skeleton in a tight hug. “And it’s not just to pick up your lazybones brother, either--!”

Before Sans can shake off the numbness from hearing Papyrus’ words, Muffet lets him go, as though suddenly remembering something.

“Sorry, sorry!” she laughs, pushing back a stray strand of hair from her face before she pulls a menu out of the half-apron around her waist. “I’m just excited to see you actually came this time! Papyrus is always talking about how he’s going to bring you in, and now -- now, here you are! Oh, I had a feeling today was going to be a good one~”

With a hum, she quickly sets the single menu in front of Sans, her face still slightly scrunched in an excited smile.

“I’ll just give you a minute with this, then,” Muffet trills, clasping her hands together. “No rush at all, dearie~ I’m sure your brother can find it in his heart to recommend something for you that he won’t try to steal off your plate--”

“ _ Oi, Muffet! We’re ready over here! _ ”

“ _ Ugh, _ barking orders at me like  _ I’m _ the dog and not the other way around,” Muffet huffs, her expression suddenly cross. “Excuse me, dearies, I’ll be right back~”

Sans watches silently as Muffet skates away, her lower arms folded behind her back as she quickly becomes just a dark shape in the dimly-lit room.

“...sorry ‘bout that, kiddo,” Papyrus finally sighs, letting his half-smile fall from his face. “I know you’re not my brother… I just figured, well… there’s no point in getting the whole world worked up about it. At least for now, it’s probably better to keep the truth to ourselves, yeah?”

Sans’ gaze slowly drifts back to the tall skeleton across the table from him.

There’s some hard expression on his face that Sans can’t quite put words to, but he can see that Papyrus is waiting for his acceptance.

“...yeah, I… that’s probably for the best,” he nods, forcing his voice to sound casual. “...you just caught me off-guard with that, is all.”

Papyrus’ face softens a bit, and he shifts forward, resting his forearms on the table.

“...what do you like?” Papyrus asks, tapping a finger against the menu. “I always get the same thing, but really, everything here is pretty good.”

Sans realizes he should probably at least open the menu, at least make an attempt at choosing something for himself, and yet…

“...I just want a burger and fries,” he finds himself muttering. “And I want ‘em slathered in ketchup.”

“Ah… you’re gonna be out of luck there, kiddo,” Papyrus sighs. “Muffet doesn’t do burgers. Doesn’t wanna deal with cleaning up all that grease, she told me once. But the tacos are pretty good, and, uh, they got all the same stuff in ‘em that goes on a burger. Well, most of the same stuff…”

“...oh.”

That’s what’s missing, Sans realizes… the smell of fried grease hanging heavy in the air, and the smoky scent of something perpetually burning. Of some _ one _ perpetually burning, rather.

He pulls his hood a little further over his face.

“...does ketchup go well with tacos, then?” Sans asks, nestling his chin into the red scarf around his neck. “We, uh… don’t really have them in my world.”

“Probably not,” Papyrus shrugs. “But no harm in trying, right? Can’t be any worse than what I put on my food, heh.”

Sans frowns, and opens his mouth to speak--

“Sorry about that, dearies~ Sometimes dogs are more hassle than they’re worth, but you can’t say no to the Royal Guard, hm~? But enough of my complaining -- have you decided what you wanted, Sans~?”

Startled, he glances over to see Muffet hovering near him, order pad at the ready and a fanged smile on her lavender face.

“Uh… I guess… I’ll get the tacos…?” Sans says uncertainly, watching as Muffet scribbles down his order. “And, um… could you bring out a bottle of ketchup, too?”

The spider pauses, staring briefly at Sans with a look that would’ve made his skin crawl.

“...you two really  _ are _ brothers,” she mutters, almost under her breath before turning to frown at Papyrus. “But at least  _ your _ condiment preference makes more sense, unlike  _ this _ lazybones over here.”

“Ah, c’mon, cut me a  _ little _ slack, Muffet,” Papyrus chuckles, slouching back in his seat once more. 

“Not until I get my money, dearie,” Muffet croons sweetly, taking the menu from Sans in the process. “I’ll get started on your food, it should be up shortly~”

With a hum and a push off from the table, Muffet skates away again, soon disappearing into the kitchen.

“...she’s, uh… pretty insistent about that tab of yours,” Sans says, forcing himself to chuckle lightly.

“It’s usually not that big of a deal… she only really bugs me about it when things aren’t going so well,” Papyrus shrugs, not catching the brief look of shock that crosses Sans’ face. “It’s actually been a while since she last tried to collect.”

For a moment, he considers expanding on the subtle pun Papyrus made, but decides against it when he notices there’s neither a small, smug smile nor a look of sudden realization creeping on the taller skeleton’s face. 

Definitely not him… and  _ definitely _ not his brother.

Something about the revelation makes Sans feel very, very…  _ small. _

“...hey.”

Before he can shrink into himself any further, Papyrus’ almost-grunt grabs his attention, and he stares cautiously across the table at the taller skeleton.

Sans may not have been paying full attention earlier, but he knows that perturbed look wasn’t on Papyrus’ face a moment ago.

“...about earlier,” the taller skeleton starts, and Sans can see him fumbling for the right words to continue. “About… how I reacted, when you… when I found out you weren’t my brother. I…”

Papyrus’ thin, bony fingertips begin tapping on the tabletop, and he shifts his jaw as though trying to bite down on something.

“...what I wouldn’t do for a smoke right now,” he mutters, one of his hands moving to rub his jaw. “Alright, fine. I’ll say it. I… I overreacted.”

“That’s, uh, one way to put it,” Sans replies bluntly, not even realizing the words are coming out of his mouth until they’re already there.

“Trust me, I’m  _ well _ aware that’s an understatement,” Papyrus responds curtly, a flash of annoyance crossing his face before it melts into resignation. “But… just trade places with me for a second, alright? This morning, I woke up to find my brother making breakfast burritos. Now, I’m having dinner with…”

He gestures at Sans with one hand, then sighs, choosing instead to rub the back of his skull.

“...with… you,” he mutters. “You’re not his replacement, but… that’s the only word that comes to mind. And I don’t even know where he is, now. Wouldn’t  _ you _ lose your cool? ...to be honest, I’m shocked that you, uh… well,  _ haven’t. _ ”

Something hot and angry suddenly boils up in Sans, and his hands claw at the edge of the booth bench, fingertips digging into the wood.

“...sorry,” Papyrus sighs, and in the table’s varnished surface, Sans can see the other skeleton hold up his hands placatingly. “Here I am, talking to you like I've known you my whole life when I barely know you. Just like I don’t know what made you want to reset your timeline…”

Sans can’t shake the feeling of condescension, but when he finally looks up to see Papyrus’ true expression, he notices the darkened look to his eyes.

“...I don’t know what made me think you wanted this to happen on purpose,” the taller skeleton finally admits before locking eyes with Sans. “...I’m sorry.”

The heated feeling in Sans’ heart fades away, even as he tries to hold onto it. He isn't ready to be handed back over to despair just yet.

Like everything else, it seems, Sans doesn't get his way.

“...hey, uh… don't… don't worry about it,” he chuckles weakly, his smile forced behind the scarf around his face. “I gotta say, for losing your cool…”

He fights the shiver of something cold and unfamiliar crawling down his back.

“...you, uh, handled yourself a lot better than I did, heh.”

He can feel Papyrus’ eyes on him, and braces himself as best he can for the question, for the  _ what do you mean _ , that’s sure to follow.

“...doesn’t mean what I did was okay,” the taller skeleton finally says, looking away as he once again drums his fingertips on the tabletop. “But, uh… thanks. For hearing me out, at least. It’s probably more than I deserved, heh.”

“...y-yeah, uh… no… no problem.”

Oblivious as he may be, his brother would have pushed for an explanation; his brother -- _ his _ Papyrus -- would have asked  _ WHAT _ and  _ WHY _ until Sans ran out of lies to tell.

He almost opens his mouth to volunteer an explanation, out of force of habit--

“Sorry about the wait~!”

Sans quickly clams back up as Muffet glides up to their booth, easily balancing the tray of food on a single spindly arm.

“Goodness, such serious faces on both of you today,” she remarks, setting two hands on her hips as she glances back and forth between the skeletons. “Nothing’s  _ wrong, _ is there?”

Sans catches the faintly nervous look that Papyrus shoots him, and looks up at Muffet, forcing a smile.

“Just, uh, hungry, is all,” he shrugs, tucking the scarf around his neck under his chin. “I mean, look at us over here… We’re not even just skin and bones anymore -- now we’re just bones!”

He hears a muffled snort, and both he and Muffet turn to see Papyrus covering his mouth in a failed attempt to suppress a laugh.

“Don’t laugh at that!” Muffet huffs, her five eyes narrowing at the taller skeleton. “Be ashamed of yourself, Papyrus! I can’t believe this -- you’ve started corrupting him!”

“Sorry, sorry,” Papyrus chuckles, holding up the one hand not covering his face. “But trust me, Muffet, I’m just as surprised as you are at that one!”

With an agitated growl, Muffet harshly sets an overflowing bowl in front of Papyrus, then turns to fix Sans with a sympathetic smile.

“I’m so sorry, Sans,” she begins, her tone much sweeter with him as she carefully places the plate of tacos before him. “I searched the whole kitchen, but it looks like I don’t have any ketchup on hand. I promise I’ll have some for the next time you come in, okay, dearie~?”

“Oh... that’s alright. Uh, thanks for checking… Muffet.”

Muffet lays a hand softly on Sans’ shoulder before she skates back into the shadows, checking in on the only other occupied table.

“...wow, you being here put Muffet in a  _ really _ good mood. I might actually have  _ leftovers _ for once…”

Sans finally lets his attention flit back to Papyrus…

And blinks.

“...that’s, uh… that’s an awful lot of spaghetti.”

“Tell me about it,” Papyrus agrees, taking the fork sticking out of the bowl and shifting his food around. “She knows it’s my favorite thing on the menu, but this is… a little ridiculous. ...You, uh, you want any?”

Sans’ breath hitches.

“N-No, thanks. I’m, uh… real picky about whose spaghetti I eat.”

“Suit yourself, kiddo,” Papyrus shrugs, reaching into his shorts pocket with his free hand. “Just do me a favor and don’t tell Muffet I’m doing this, alright?”

Sans watches as Papyrus pulls out the amber-colored bottle from before and flips open the cap.

“...is… is that…  _ honey? _ ” he asks, frowning slightly.

“Sure is,” the tall skeleton nods, a smile on his face as he squeezes the contents of the bottle all over his dish. “And Muffet  _ hates _ when I ‘ruin’ her cooking, so don’t tell her you saw me do this, or she’ll skin me alive.”

He pauses, then lets his smile turn into a smirk.

“Well, she  _ would _ if I  _ had _ skin, as you pointed out earlier.”

Sans blinks, then sits up a little straighter, the smile on his face widening on its own.

“Glad to see you, uh… appreciated that one,” he says, folding his arms on the table. “Gotta admit... I don’t know a lot of people with a well-developed funny bone, heh.”

“Heh… I know that feeling,” Papyrus agrees, twirling the spaghetti around his fork. “Nobody seems to get that the only good joke is a bad one, y’know?”

Sans can’t stop the snicker from escaping, and misses the way Papyrus’ expression softens.

“...c’mon, kiddo. The food’s better when it’s still warm.”

Sans finally looks down at his plate.

Well, Papyrus wasn’t  _ wrong, _ per se; he can definitely see the lettuce and diced tomatoes in each taco, and assumes that the dark brown meat crumbled along the bottom of each hard, yellow shell is the same stuff that his beloved burgers are made from. But he can’t identify the tan, lumpy substance slathered on his food, and the white sauce looks a little too well-formed to be mayonnaise.

“...what, do I just… eat this like a hot dog…?” he asks, picking one of the tacos up carefully. 

“Pretty much,” Papyrus nods. “Except it’s a lot messier, so, uh… you might want to be careful with that scarf of yours, unless you want sour cream all over it.”

“Oh, uh…”

With one hand, Sans shoves as much of the ragged scarf into the neck of his t-shirt as he can, until only a small section of red peeks out, just under his chin.

“...thanks for that,” he says quietly.

“Yeah, no problem. Let’s eat, kiddo.  _ Bone _ appetit, heh.”

Sans can’t help but smile, just a bit, before hesitantly taking a bite.

The flavor of the beef is there, for sure, but it’s not quite right in his mouth -- not  _ bad, _ but definitely not like a burger patty. And the taste and textures of the lettuce and tomatoes almost melt into the creaminess of the sour cream and… whatever the brown paste is. They might be beans, but it’s been a long time since Sans has eaten any, and they’ve never been..  _ pasty _ before.

He can’t shake the feeling there’s some taste missing.

“So? How is it?”

Sans looks up to see Papyrus looking at him, slurping spaghetti noodles into his mouth.

He wasn’t expecting to see his brother’s face, and has to swallow back the lump in his throat.

“It’s… not bad.”

Papyrus smiles before returning his attention to his food, and Sans watches for a few moments -- until the ache in his chest of watching someone with his brother’s face eating with his brother’s fervor becomes too much, and he looks down at his own plate.

It’s not a burger and fries. It’s  _ definitely _ not the taste of home.

But it’s food in his system, and even he can’t deny that he’s starving.

Sans takes another bite, and tries to convince himself that for now, this is good enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is what it feels like to respect my own work with such ardent fervor.
> 
> Yet another huge shout-out to my son (note: **not my actual son** ) for being my proofreader, my pseudo-editor, and my sounding board for ideas; I may be doing 100% of the writing, but this would not be happening without BenG.
> 
> This is probably also a good spot to acknowledge that there may, in places, be departures from the "Underswap canon," as it were. I'm trying to remain as true to the source material as I can, but when there is a dearth of resources, sometimes improvisation is required...
> 
> That being said, I am also announcing (as if there was any doubt) that **I do not own the idea for Underswap.** Should have gotten that out of the way earlier, but better late than never, I suppose.


	4. Masks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Masking is a process in which an individual changes or "masks" their natural personality to conform to social pressures, abuse, and/or harassment. Some examples of masking are a single overly dominant temperament, or humor, two incongruent temperaments, or displaying three of the four main temperaments within the same individual. [...]_   
>  _Masking should **not** be confused with masking behavior which is to  mentally block feelings of suffering as a survival mechanism._

He couldn’t finish the tacos.

“C’mon, kiddo, even Muffet told you not to worry about it. Besides, now we’ve both got leftovers, yeah?”

Like to all of Papyrus’ other comments, Sans is silent, instead watching the way the snow shifts around his slippers as he kicks it around.

It flies higher than the snow back home, he thinks, and imagines his brother struggling to build a snowman with snow as powdery as this.

He tries to stop imagining.

“Keep that up and you’re gonna get snow in your shoes, kiddo,” Papyrus chuckles as he pushes the house key into the lock. “Well, your slippers, I guess. ...any, uh, particular reason for slippers, anyway?”

“...they're comfortable,” Sans brings himself to mumble, still mired in his thoughts.

“Eh, can't argue with you there. C'mon, it's gonna be warmer inside.”

He pauses for a few moments, still staring at the powder-like snow around his feet, but eventually follows Papyrus into the house.

“S’a little early to be turning in for the night,” the tall skeleton continues, already in the kitchen putting the leftovers away. “Well, for  _ me _ it is, at least. If you want to, I won’t stop you, but… I'm gonna watch some TV. If you wanted to join me, there's room on the couch.”

Sans looks around.

He’d only seen the similarities before, but looking now, the walls are a little too  _ red _ to remind him of the purple in his own house. From here, Sans can see the landing for the second floor, and instead of caution tape over his brother’s door -- rather, what  _ should _ be his brother’s door -- he spots several traffic signs nailed to the door.

There's not even a sock on the floor, but now that he's looking, each of the scattered cigarette butts is marked by a post-it note.

“...kiddo, you left the door open.”

Sans jolts, just a bit, and finally notices that Papyrus is walking past him, a worn expression on his bony face as he shuts the front door.

“Oh, uh… sorry about that, I guess,” Sans mumbles, nestling his chin a little further into his scarf.

“Eh, it’s not the end of the world,” Papyrus shrugs, offering a half-smile in response as he reaches out a hand towards Sans. “C’mon, you’re probably tired, yeah? Sit down and relax a bit--”

Sans jerks away the moment Papyrus’ bony hand touches his arm, backing away until he bumps into the table with the pet rock.

“ _ Don’t touch me, _ ” he growls, eyes barely more than hollow sockets as he stares at the other skeleton.

Papyrus straightens, the startled expression lingering on his face a few moments longer before he sighs.

“Sorry,” he chuckles softly, his hands raised placatingly. “Sorry. Sort of a… force of habit, I guess. I'm just used to leading my bro around a bit, that's all.”

Sans watches with intense vigilance as Papyrus walk over to the couch before sinking down into it, his lanky body meshing perfectly into the couch’s lumps.

“There's room on the couch,” Papyrus says, snatching the remote off the endtable, “if you wanna sit down too. No pressure, though.”

Sans lingers by the table, watching as Papyrus presses the power button before lazily dropping the remote on the armrest.

There's something deeply, personally uncomfortable about watching someone with his brother’s body do an action that is so very  _ not Papyrus, _ so Sans quickly lets himself be distracted by the unfamiliar sounds coming from the television.

“...what…  _ is _ this?” he finally asks, browbones furrowed as he cautiously approaches the side of the couch.

“Eh… One of Napstabot’s less interesting programs,” Papyrus shrugs, voice lacking even any feigned excitement. “It’s something about showing off the houses of celebrities, but, uh… since he’s the only famous monster that’s not connected to the Royal Family, he kind of just… shows off a different room of his house in each episode.”

The volume is barely more than a staticky murmur, but he doesn’t need to hear the show to know that the rectangular robot with turntables sticking out of its sides is, without a doubt,  _ not _ Mettaton.

“Like I said, it’s, uh… not exactly quality programming,” Papyrus continues, and a soft laugh creeps into his voice. “But my bro, he could watch this stuff all day long if he wasn’t training to be in the Royal Guard. Are the shows any better in your world, kiddo?”

Sans feels his stomach trying to crawl itself up through his throat.

_ “Man, Papyrus, don’t tell me you actually  _ **_like_ ** _ this stuff…” _

_ “WHY WOULD I LIE ABOUT SOMETHING AS IMPORTANT AS LIKING METTATON, BROTHER? AFTER ALL, HE IS ALMOST AS GREAT AS ME!! AND THAT IS A VERY HIGH STANDARD TO MEET!” _

_ “ _ **_Nobody_ ** _ is as great as you are, bro.” _

_ “NYEH HEH HEH! OF COURSE NOT! BUT IT’S STILL NICE TO HEAR YOU SAY SO, SANS… Sans...” _

“ _ Sans! _ ”

The voice barely reaches him, but “barely” is enough to make the vision of his brother vanish like smoke passing through his ice-cold fingers. 

_ no, no  _ **_no come back_ **

Sans tries to force his desperation into real words, but can’t force anything but a choked sob past the knot in his throat. Squeezing his eyes shut, Sans ignores the vivid chevron carpet he’s kneeling on, reaching for that memory -- he was there,  _ right there, _ Sans could have reached out and  _ touched him-- _

“You alright, kiddo…?”

Through the cold that has cut down to the marrow, Sans suddenly becomes painfully aware of the hand gently stroking his back.

“ _ Don’t touch me!! _ ”

Papyrus topples back, falling the rest of the way to the ground as Sans scuttles away from him until his back is pressed hard against the wall.

“Hey,  _ hey, _ ” Papyrus calls, but softly, as he resets himself into a cross-legged position in front of Sans. “I’m sorry, okay? You just -- you just collapsed and started rattling, and -- and I got worried, alright? Just… I want to help you, Sans. Tell me what’s wrong.”

With only the faintest glimmer of pupils in his otherwise empty eyesockets, Sans stares at Papyrus, his bony fingers clutching the scarf around his neck as though it’ll vanish if he lets go.

“Sans--?”

“I’m  _ fine, _ ” he chokes out, taken by surprise at the sound of his own voice. “J… just…  _ fine. _ ”

“The hell you are,” Papyrus frowns, tapping his fingers against the ground before he sighs. “Look, Sans. I… I know this isn’t your home. And it, uh, it’s… probably really terrifying, isn’t it? ...I can’t even imagine, heh.”

Sans doesn’t respond, but keeps his eyes fixed on the skeleton in front of him as an unfamiliar, irritating sensation creeps up in his soul.

“But I… I want you to know that you can trust me, alright, kiddo?” Papyrus continues, pausing at odd intervals to try and piece together the right words. “I really just want to help you out as much as I can… even if there’s not much I can do. Alright…?”

This isn’t mockery; of that much, Sans is certain. The dozens of quickloads he’d been made to suffer through, the innumerable resets performed just to deny him and his brother the permanent release of death --  _ that _ was mockery in its purest form; the human had turned it into an art, and Sans its sole connoisseur.  _ This _ is new, and Sans cannot put the feeling to words.

_...no, _ he realizes, his eyes widening slightly.

“Sans…?”

This isn’t a new feeling; unfamiliar, yes, but not… quite…  _ new. _ It had passed over him in a hot rush at dinner, dissipating before he could put a name to it, but now…

As the feeling burrows deeper into his heart, Sans finds himself staring at Papyrus with disbelief.

“...are you…  _ patronizing _ me…?” he asks, his words soft but unmistakably clear.

Papyrus blinks, leaning back a little in his surprise.

“I’m… not trying to…?” he shakes his head, but the gesture is slow, uncertain. “I’m just--”

“Just… talking to me like I’m… like I’m a  _ child. _ ”

Sans notices the way Papyrus sits a little straighter as his own eyes go hollow.

“I’m not doing it on  _ purpose, _ kiddo,” the taller skeleton frowns, letting a small growl creep into his voice.

“No? Well, you’re still doing a  _ really good job _ of it,” Sans replies, doing nothing to tame the false saccharine in his words. “Do you get a lot of practice?”

Papyrus’ growl deepens, and he raises a hand to massage his right temple before he exhales forcefully.

“You can’t tell me that  _ you _ don’t try to make things easy on  _ your _ brother, Sans,” he finally says, through gritted teeth, as a scowl darkens his face.

“Oh? Is that what it is? I see, I see,” Sans nods, faking thoughtfulness. “You’re treating me like your  _ brother Sans, _ is that it?”

“That’s  _ not _ what I--”

“Well, I don’t know if you’ve noticed,  _ Papyrus, _ ” Sans interrupts, his words suddenly coated in a thin layer of ice. “But, well --  _ I’m not your brother. _ So, uh, the sooner you stop treating me like some  _ stupid kid, _ the better off we’ll both be, yeah?”

It isn’t until the last syllable has already passed through his teeth that he realizes that perhaps, this time, he has crossed a line better left alone. But this time, the hot boil of emotions he'd felt at dinner lingers with a vengeance, so he reluctantly clings onto them, even as he watches Papyrus slowly drag his hand down his face.

“...fine, then.”

Sans blinks as the taller skeleton grabs the couch armrest and hoists himself back onto his feet.

“F… ‘fine’?” he repeats, almost numbly, trying not to shrink against the wall.

“Yeah.  _ Fine, _ ” Papyrus repeats, his casual expression belying the venomous undercurrent of his voice. “I can take a hint. If you  _ really _ didn’t want my help that bad, you could’ve just  _ said so, _ but  _ whatever. _ ”

Sans feels the heavy burden of regret creeping back into his heart, and latches onto the anger with new fervor, even as it turns to ash in his hands.

“...not like there’s anything  _ you _ can do, anyway,” he finally mutters, but the ire in his voice is gone, leaving his words hollow.

“Not like I’d  _ want _ to, with  _ that _ attitude,” Papyrus snaps as he searches his pockets, but only pulls out a lighter. “Is that how you treat  _ your _ brother when  _ he _ tries to help you?”

His stomach ties itself in knots, pushing its way back up his throat, and forces out his words--

“Talk to me when you’ve actually had to  _ do _ something for your brother.”

If Papyrus says something to Sans, he’s not paying attention; he only realizes Papyrus has stormed out of the house when the door slams shut, and the windowpanes rattle softly in their sills. 

The quiet buzzing of the television can’t cut through the deafening silence that engulfs him as he slides all the way to the floor, hollow eyes fixed on the ceiling.

**_well, now you’ve done it, sans._ **

He doesn’t recognize the small voice that chirps inside his mind. He decides he doesn’t care as he rolls onto his side, slowly reaching up to pull his hood over his face.

**_even papyrus has stormed out on you, hm?_ **

_ not my brother, _ Sans accidentally tells himself, awkwardly pulling the red scarf over his mouth.  _ not him. _

**_no, he’s not your brother. but he is papyrus. and now even he’s left you. how sad…_ **

Any vestige of rage that had been left in his heart is gone; only the heavy, sinking feeling of anguish fills his soul, as familiar as it is agonizing. Sans pulls his knees up into his chest, and holds onto them tightly, grabbing his own shins.

**_you’re all alone now, aren’t you?_ **

Sans clenches his teeth, bottling up his painful sob inside his chest.

But he can’t stop the tears from sliding down his skeletal face.

* * *

_ “JEEZ, SANS, YOU’RE SO LAZY! I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU MADE ME COME PICK YOU UP FROM  _ **_GRILLBY’S!_ ** _ ” _

_ “Heh… lucky for me I’ve got such a great bro, right? Thanks again, by the way.” _

_ “DO NOT THANK ME, BROTHER! THERE WILL BE  _ **_CONSEQUENCES_ ** _ FOR THIS! I AM MAKING YOU SLEEP ON THE  _ **_COUCH_ ** _ TONIGHT! AND! WHEN YOU WAKE UP IN THE MORNING, I WILL…” _

_ Sans tunes out his brother’s droning, letting his head roll lazily against Papyrus’ chestplate as the taller skeleton cradles him close. _

_ He closes his eyes, letting the soft rhythm of his brother walking through the snow soothe him to sleep. _

His eyes snap back open at the sudden sound of something shattering in the kitchen, but he doesn’t sit up just yet.

The television is on, but the screen is nothing but multicolored bars behind bold white letters saying  _ “STAY TUNED FOR MORE PROGRAMMING!” _ When Sans shifts his head, just a bit, he sees the quilted blue blanket draped carefully over his body, and feels it tucked in around his feet.

Papyrus doesn’t normally give Sans the blanket from his own bed.

_ you’re too nice, bro, _ Sans smiles tiredly to himself, closing his eyes again as he lays back on the couch.  _ should’ve just left me to sleep on the floor… _

It takes a moment, but his eyes open immediately as realization sets in.

He was  _ on _ the floor, last night; the last thing he really remembers is being too exhausted to move himself onto the couch, and silently crying himself to sleep.

But… if his brother carrying him home had been a dream… then…

Sans forces himself to at least prop himself onto his elbows.

“...Papyrus…?”

There’s a small shuffling sound, and from out of the kitchen shambles--

“Sorry, kiddo,” Papyrus grumbles quietly, holding two mugs in one hand as he tiredly rubs his face with the other. “Not, uh, not the one you were probably hoping for.”

His heart sinks in his chest as Sans falls back onto the couch, staring at the ceiling.

_...so this is real. _

“...alright if I sit here?”

Sans glances up at Papyrus, now standing beside the couch, holding one mug in each hand and staring at Sans with a weary expression.

“... uh… yeah, that’s… that’s fine,” he mumbles, scooting back until he hits the armrest.

Papyrus sinks into the couch, sighing heavily in time with the couch’s low creak, and just sits for a moment in silence before holding out one of the mugs to Sans.

“Here,” he half-grunts, turning his head only a little to look at the shorter skeleton. “Dunno if you drink coffee, but… y’know. If you want some.”

Sans blinks, then awkwardly pushes himself up until he’s sitting.

“Uh… thanks,” he nods slightly, taking the cup. “You, uh… didn’t have to do that.”

“...didn’t want to be rude,” Papyrus mutters quietly before he takes a sip of his own coffee. “It’s, uh… a lot stronger than I normally make it, so… fair warning, I guess.”

Something about Papyrus’ words makes Sans want to shrink into himself, so he stares into the mug cupped in his hands, instead.

“...thanks,” he murmurs again, quietly, to his reflection.

“Mm.”

In his peripheral vision, Sans can see Papyrus sipping from his own mug, then lean his head back against the couch in exhaustion.

Sans doesn’t normally drink coffee, but he finds himself compelled to at least taste it, and brings his cup to his teeth before carefully sipping.

It’s all he can do to choke it down as the burning-hot, bitter taste touches his tongue, but he manages to not spit it all over himself.

“Too strong, huh?”

Sans is still struggling not to gag from the aftertaste that lingers in his mouth.

“...if you don’t want the rest, I’ll take it.”

“N-No, it’s… it’s fine,” the shorter skeleton shakes his head, though he has to fight the instinct to pass the mug back to Papyrus. “It’s… fine. Thank you.”

Even if he doesn’t want to finish the drink, at least the heat radiating from the mug is comfortable in his hands.

“If you’re sure, kiddo,” Papyrus shrugs, setting his mug on the armrest. “If it’s, uh, any consolation… it’s not, um… not usually strong enough to double as rocket fuel.”

Despite himself, Sans can’t help but chuckle softly. Papyrus smiles tiredly in response, then reaches into his hoodie pocket and pulls out his lighter, along with a new pack of cigarettes.

Sans catches himself frowning, just barely feeling his browbones furrowing together.

_...he was out yesterday. _

“...you, uh… you get some more when you… went out last night?” he asks quietly, nodding slightly to the pack in Papyrus’ hand.

“Hm…?” Papyrus hums back in response, as though the question hasn’t fully registered while he pulls out a single cigarette. “...oh. Yeah, uh… got tired of… of wanting a smoke. ...needed to cool off before I came back, anyway.”

He pauses, lightly rolling the cigarette between his bony fingers, before bringing it to his teeth and lighting it.

Sans feels something heavy and uncomfortable trying to settle in his heart, and shifts, looking back into his coffee mug.

“...Sans.”

He feels the small gasp escape him before he looks up, his fingers curling more tightly around the mug in his hands.

“...last night… was…”

Papyrus pauses, struggling for words, but finally sighs and lets his shoulders slump.

“...last night was a shitshow,” he cedes, as the cloud of smoke dissipates around his face. “From  _ both _ of us. Yeah, I started treating you like I treat my brother, but  _ you _ said some pretty awful things, yourself. Don’t deny it, Sans.”

He can’t bring himself to look at Papyrus anymore, so Sans instead glances over at the television.

“...didn’t  _ mean _ to,” he mutters to the neon-colored bars on the screen.

“Doesn’t matter what we  _ meant _ to do,” Papyrus growls quietly, taking another long drag of his cigarette. “We still  _ did _ it. And what you said… not gonna lie, kiddo -- you, uh, really know how to hit someone’s weak spots.”

Sans pulls his legs in closer to his body, painfully silent.

“...still, it’s not -- I mean, you… you weren’t…  _ wrong _ to be so upset.”

He doesn’t look over, but he hears Papyrus take another long drag of his cigarette before exhaling softly.

“Because, you, uh… you were right, Sans,” the taller skeleton continues, struggling to put his words together in the right order. “I  _ was _ treating you like a kid. Like I… like I knew how to fix your problem for you, when… when…”

_ when you don’t know anything. when there’s nothing you can do for me. _

Papyrus grows silent, and Sans panics for a moment, wondering if he accidentally put a voice to his thoughts.

“...maybe I should have, um… thought this out first,” Papyrus finally chuckles, his voice soft before he pinches the end of his cigarette to extinguish the smolder. “...I don’t appreciate what you said to me last night, kiddo. But I think… I probably wouldn’t be much better if, um… if  _ I _ thought I was alone in a new world, too.”

This sense of understanding is  _ not _ a feeling Sans recognizes, and for how sharp it feels in his soul, Sans doesn’t like how quickly it  _ settles. _

“... thanks… Papyrus.”

They’re barely more than a whisper, but he never thought two words would be so painful to say.

“Don’t thank me for that, kiddo,” Papyrus shakes his head softly, reaching for his coffee mug once more. “I was still kind of an ass to you, too. But, uh… while I was out, I  _ did _ call Undyne. I explained a bit of, uh, what happened to her.”

Sans frowns, but welcomes the distraction from the painful feeling in his chest.

“I thought we weren’t gonna tell anyone,” he says, crossing his legs.

“Yeah, not anyone that doesn’t need to  _ know, _ obviously,” Papyrus agrees, sipping his coffee. “But Undyne, she -- she doesn’t  _ remember _ resets, but she knows about, uh, about the multiple timelines. Used to study ‘em with the former Royal Scientist when she was still an intern, I think.”

Sans can’t stop the flutter of hope from popping into his heart.

“...and she can… help?” he forces himself to ask.

“Well, she’s willing to try,” the taller skeleton nods. “And it’s worth a shot, isn’t it? If you’re, uh, up for a trip to Hotland later today, Undyne said that any time is good for her. Not like she’s gonna do much else but watch anime otherwise, heh.”

He’s afraid to hold onto this feeling -- afraid to latch onto the hope that has so often been ripped from his grasp and torn to pieces in front of him. He’s afraid to endure another cycle of having that hope crushed so thoroughly.

But it’s still less painful than despair, so Sans reluctantly curls his hands around the emotion and holds it tight.

“I’m, uh… I’m good to go whenever you are,” he nods, his voice still quiet.

“Alright,” Papyrus smiles faintly before noticing his mug is empty. “Let me, uh, just… have some more coffee and maybe change into some clean clothes, and then we’ll head out. ...you  _ sure _ you’re gonna finish that drink, kiddo?”

Sans looks down at the coffee mug in his hands like he’d forgotten it was a separate item from his body.

It’s still warm.

“...I’ll, uh… just hold onto it for now,” he mutters, almost sheepishly.

“Eh, suit yourself. I’ll let you know when I’m ready, alright?”

With a slow push, Papyrus lifts himself off the couch, rubbing the back of his head as he shuffles into the kitchen with his coffee mug in hand.

Sans quietly slumps back until he is leaning against the armrest, still looking into his cup.

He’s not particularly inclined to drink it. Especially now that, when he looks at it, it reminds him of the consistency of motor oil. But Papyrus  _ did _ make it for him… and something tells Sans that he’s going to need all the energy he can get today.

He lets a tired sigh escape him before he takes another sip of the tar-like coffee.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am willing to take bets that the amount of stuff I _deleted_ from this chapter is longer than the actual chapter itself. So much dialogue reworking, ugh.
> 
> Not like there wasn't a wait for this chapter already, but next one might be slow in coming; I am currently out of town for work training for my new job, and then I am going to a con in a few weeks. But rest assured, I know what I want to happen in the next chapter; the only delay will be finding the time to write -- which I will do everything I can to remedy.


	5. Sink Or Swim

“Well, hopefully the ferry will be waiting for us when we leave Hotland, at least.”

Sans forces a small chuckle as he and Papyrus cross the bridge seed bridge, wishing that he'd thought to ask for at least a change of socks as the water laps over the plants and onto his feet.

So far, everything's been comparably similar to the Waterfall he knows. Really, the only thing that's stuck out to him is that his -- well, “his” -- sentry station wasn't near the entrance… and he's still trying to decide whether or not he's grateful for the difference.

“You, uh, come to Waterfall often?” Sans decides to ask, feeling the dampness sloshing in his slippers.

“Eh… only as far as Alphys’ house, usually,” Papyrus shrugs. “And that's just to pick up my bro from his training when he forgets to come home. Alphys won’t let me take him home unless I ‘put some effort into it.’ If I ever need to go to Hotland, I'll usually take the ferry… it's a lot faster. Lot drier, too, heh.”

_ tell me about it, _ Sans catches himself agreeing as he follows Papyrus into the next area…

And pauses in the corridor, breath catching in his throat.

They aren't in the same spots as back home, but for a moment, it doesn't matter as Sans looks up at the “stars” attached into the ceiling. They glimmer faintly in the darkness, casting their magic light onto the ground to compliment the soft blue glow of the echo flowers by his feet.

“S’the matter, kid? You don't have stars in your world?”

Sans snaps out of his small trance, and notices the amused expression on Papyrus’ face.

“Well, y'know… as close to stars as we can get, living underground,” Papyrus adds, almost as an afterthought as he takes a small drag of his cigarette. “Can only hope they look like the real deal, yeah?”

The orange smolder burns in sharp contrast to the soft starry white and floral blue glows, so Sans looks away, still examining the room.

“...you alright, kiddo?”

“Yeah… I'm fine,” Sans finally responds as he steps into the room. “Just… admiring the view, is all. ...it's not the same as back home.”

Papyrus smiles a bit, and lingers by the hidden opening to the next area until Sans has had his fill of artificial starlight.

“Sorry,” the shorter skeleton apologizes, almost sheepishly, as they both step onto the wooden bridge.

“What for? Not like I'm in any real hurry,” Papyrus shrugs, pinching the end of his cigarette between his fingers before flicking the butt into the water. “Don't let me keep you from stargazing, if that's what you really like. We can even go back in, if you want.”

The temptation lingers in Sans’ mind for a few moments before he shakes his head.

“I want to get to the lab,” he answers, tucking his chin into his scarf. “The sooner, the better.”

“Fair enough.”

Sans ignores the signs fixed into the stone wall as they walk past them, already certain of what they say. It isn't long before they're walking over stagnant water, the bridge surrounded by typhae plants standing tall around them.

Something about the palpable darkness puts Sans on edge.

“Does, uh… does Alphys live near here?” he asks, trying to fend off the feeling.

“Eh… kinda?” Papyrus answers, his face screwing up in an odd expression as he rubs the back of his head. “There's a shortcut across a gap, but if the duck's not there to carry you across, you've gotta take the long way around… it's a hassle. Sans -- er, my brother, I mean -- he usually takes the long way anyway. Something about building character.”

He tries not to think about how very much like his own brother that sounds.

“What's, uh… what's she like?”

Papyrus sort of straightens himself, inhaling sharply as he does so.

“She and I, uh… don't exactly get along,” he admits, rubbing at his jaw as he searches for the right words. “Keeps on giving me a hard time for being lazy. She and my bro are  _ really _ close, though. He's  _ always _ going to her house for ‘warrior's training,’ since he wants to be in the… in the… uh…”

He slowly comes to a stop in the middle of the bridge, as though just now realizing where he is.

“Oh…  _ shit. _ ”

Sans freezes.

“Those, uh, those aren’t words I really wanna hear right now,” he laughs, but his voice rings hollow.

“Yeah, I figured. Sorry, kiddo, but we gotta book it, so--”

He doesn’t expect Papyrus to grab his sleeve and start pulling him along, but Sans quickly follows, hurrying to match the taller skeleton’s long, fast-paced strides.

“Mind at least telling me what the sudden rush is about?” Sans demands, his feet nearly falling out of his slippers as they run.

“I… forgot that Alphys likes to patrol this area,” Papyrus growls, his attention focused on the higher ledge as he leads Sans forward. “And yesterday, my bro was supposed to show up for training, and obviously he  _ didn’t. _ If she sees you here…”

“But --  _ jeez, _ slow down a  _ bit, _ at least -- but I’m  _ not _ your brother, so why--?”

Papyrus glances back for just a moment, fixing Sans with a frown.

“Who do you think she’s gonna see when she looks at you, kiddo?”

Sans nearly trips over his own feet.

“I haven’t seen her yet,” Papyrus continues, turning his attention back to the higher ledge as he keeps pulling the shorter skeleton along the winding bridge. “If we can make it to the end of the bridge, we should be in the clear, and--”

“I must say, Papyrus, seeing you take  _ initiative _ for once… I never thought the day would come! I guess Sans’ fawning over you was more than just an exaggeration!”

Papyrus skids to a stop, holding an arm out for Sans to run into.

“ _ Shit, _ ” he hisses under his breath, eyes scanning behind the monster-made pillars for any sign of movement. “Where, where,  _ where… _ ”

In the darkness up ahead, Sans sees a shadow hop down from the higher platform and land on the bridge with a loud  _ thud. _

“ _ There, _ ” he tugs on Papyrus’ shoulder, pointing to the shadow that's approaching with heavy footsteps.

“Well,  _ shit. _ ”

“ _ Language, _ Papyrus,” the shadow growls as they finally come to rest in a small pool of light. “ _ Some _ of us present have personal  _ standards. _ ”

Sans feels Papyrus subtly push him back just a bit, but doesn't fight the gesture as he stares wide-eyed at Alphys, clad in black-and-green battle armor that would've made Undyne jealous. Three deep scars run down her left eye, adding to the scowl on her yellow, scaly face.

The marrow runs cold in his bones as he catches a glimpse of the battle axe in her left hand, nearly as tall as he is.

_ she has an axe  _ **_why does she have an axe_ **

“With that said, I have to say --  _ Sans, _ ” Alphys barks suddenly, and the skeleton snaps out of his numb shock and straight into active fear.

“Y-Yeah?” he manages to choke out in as casual a voice as he can muster.

“I expected  _ better _ from you, Sans!” the lizard snaps, jabbing a heavily-gloved finger in Sans’ direction. “It's been  _ months _ since the last time you flaked on your training! And now, you're even hiding behind your brother to sneak past me to avoid the consequences?! What sort of Royal Guard do you expect to be with  _ that _ sort of behavior?!”

Papyrus glances back at Sans briefly, but Sans doesn't notice over the panic settling in.

“C'mon, Alphys… give the kid a break today,” Papyrus interrupts, voice purposefully soft as he makes eye contact with Alphys. “Yesterday was a bad day, alright? It just, uh… slipped our minds to tell you he wasn’t coming. Won't happen again, Alphys.”

“Slipped  _ both _ your minds, huh?” Alphys scowls, cupping a hand over the end of her axe’s handle. “Well, what a happy coincidence, then. Now you can  _ both _ fill me in on  _ why _ .”

Sans looks up at Papyrus, sockets wide.

_ no, _ he pleads internally as he shakes his head as small as possible.  _ please no, please _

“...we, uh… can't tell you that, Alphys,” Papyrus sighs, dragging a hand down his face. “It's… a private matter.”

“Then I'm sure you'll understand that I think you're both just making  _ excuses. _ ”

Her hand slides down the handle, and Alphys hefts her axe onto her shoulder singlehandedly before she fixes the skeletons with a cold stare.

**_why_ ** _ does she have an _ **_axe_ **

“Alphys, just let us pass,” Papyrus says, feigning nonchalance but keeping a certain edge in his voice. “Look -- we _ need _ to get to the lab, okay? It's  _ important. _ ”

“Don't worry,” Alphys chuckles, her good eye focused on Sans. “Sans knows this won't take long.”

Panic floods through his bones as the lizard shifts her stance, and Sans feels a familiar tug of someone trying to pull his soul into battle.

“L-Look, can't we just, uh, j-just… settle this p-peacefully?” he finds himself stuttering, and Sans can't keep his bones from starting a soft rattle. “Look, I'm even, uh, even asking --  _ axing _ you nicely, heh--”

“The only way past here is through  _ me! _ ” Alphys bellows over Sans’ shaking words, charging towards the skeletons with her axe at the ready.

“ _ Move, _ kiddo!” Papyrus shouts, shoving Sans back hard before narrowly ducking away from Alphys’ oncoming strike.

“ _ Come on! _ ” Alphys roars, raising her weapon overhead--

Her axe crashes into the bridge, taking up the empty space where Sans had been not a moment before.

“What the--”

She hears the sound of someone stumbling behind her, and spins around.

Sans staggers back a few steps, clutching his chest.

_ s-something’s not-- _

“Think you can run away from me, Sans?!”

He looks up in time to see Alphys wrenching her axe free from the wood, preparing for another strike.

Sans doesn't stop to think, and blips out of existence, popping back in at the far end of the bridge--

“ _ Whoa--! _ ”

He thought he landed solidly on the final stretch of the bridge, and wasn't expecting his foot to slide off the side; in his fall, Sans scrambles, and barely manages to grab to wooden planks before he tumbles into the water. His arms burn with exhaustion as he struggles to haul himself back onto the bridge.

_ this isn't right, _ Sans realizes as he finally crawls back onto the bridge, struggling to even keep himself propped on his hands and knees.  _ this isn't right, this shouldn't be so  _ **_tiring…_ **

“ _ Come back here! _ ”

He can hear thunderous footsteps, and forces himself to look up.

Alphys isn't as far away as he'd like her to be, and he's not sure he can push himself back to his feet, let alone manage another teleport--

“C'mon, kiddo.  _ Up. _ ”

Sans gasps as he feels a pair of hands grasp his shoulders, pulling him roughly onto his feet.

“Wh--”

“No time for questions, kiddo,” Papyrus growls, scooping Sans into his arms before running into the grass, away from Alphys. “We gotta  _ go. _ ”

The grass is just barely tall enough that Sans can't see Alphys charging towards them. But he can hear her over the rustling, and despite Papyrus’ long strides, Sans thinks he hears her catching up.

“Teleport,” he croaks, mustering the strength to reach up and grab at Papyrus’ hoodie.

“Can't do it, kiddo,” the taller skeleton grunts as he pushes through the tall grass. “Not if I've got you, too.”

As they finally emerge from the grass, Sans cranes his head back, just a bit, to see how much distance they really have.

Alphys emerges just seconds after, still in hot pursuit, reeds stuck in her armor and her scaly face red with anger.

“Then put me down,” Sans urges, yanking on the drawstring of Papyrus’ hoodie.

“Don't know if you  _ noticed, _ but we're kinda being chased down by  _ the head of the Royal Guard _ right now!”

“Put me  _ down, _ Papyrus--”

“ _ Sans-- _ ”

“ **_N o w._ ** ”

Papyrus takes a brief second to look down and sees that, for all the exhaustion etched into his face, Sans is still looking up at him with hollow eyes.

“... _ really _ hope you know what you’re doing, kiddo,” he growls as he ducks around a corner into a narrow hallway. 

As Sans feels Papyrus set him back on his feet, he can hear Alphys trying to slow down enough to make the same tight turn they just did.

“Hand,” he orders, extending his hand towards Papyrus’.

“Wha--”

“ _ Hand, _ I  _ need _ it!  _ Quickly! _ ”

“ _ Alright, alright! _ ” Papyrus snaps back, quickly grabbing hold of Sans’ hand.

Sans squeezes hard, feeling the magic coursing through Papyrus’ body as Alphys’ shadow falls on them both--

_ just get us past the marsh, _ he prays as he pulls Papyrus along with him into the void.

* * *

“Sans.  _ Sans. _ ”

The words barely reach Sans, like soft lights drifting through a thick fog.

It takes all the effort he can muster just to open his eyes.

“... Pa… pyrus…?”

“Sure is, kiddo,” Papyrus chuckles softly, carefully stroking Sans’ forehead with one hand. “You’ve been out for a while… I was getting worried about you. But I guess I shouldn’t be surprised you’d be exhausted after a trick like  _ that. _ ”

Sans only half-listens as dizziness and numbing fatigue quickly set in, blanketing most of his senses along with his mind. As Papyrus’ words trail off, Sans struggles to remember -- they were running from Alphys, he’d tried teleporting away, he was  _ exhausted, _ and then… then…

_...right. _

“...where… are we?” he asks, barely able to form the words.

“Pretty sure we’re in the back half of the dump,” Papyrus says, looking around again. “We’re definitely  _ somewhere _ in the dump, but I haven’t exactly gotten up to look around, myself. Wasn’t gonna leave you behind, after all.”

Despite his exhaustion, Sans frowns.

“... I… was aiming for the… the marsh.”

“Well, you got us there and then some, kiddo. Even with how long you were out, I don’t think Alphys is gonna find us for a while.”

When Sans doesn’t respond right away, or even after a few long moments, Papyrus looks down at him with a soft frown.

“You alright?” he asks, voice soft.

“... I… I don’t… know.”

For a moment, Sans tries to struggle for the right words to express his concerns -- he’s tired, no, he’s  _ drained, _ and he hasn’t missed a teleport like that since he learned  _ how _ \-- but eventually settles for letting a sigh escape through closed teeth.

“...I don’t know,” he repeats, closing his eyes.

He's almost accidentally drifted back to sleep when he feels Papyrus gently tap on his skull with two fingers.

“We should keep going,” Papyrus suggests quietly. “Alphys is gonna come down here eventually. Can you get up?”

Sans lets out a tired groan before trying to push himself to his feet, or even just a sitting position. But his arms feel like jelly the moment he puts pressure on them, and only manages to sit up a few inches before they give out under him.

“...I think… I used too much magic,” he admits, trying to hide the shame in his voice as he collapses again. “...I can't get up.”

“You want me to carry you, then, kiddo?”

Sans feels his heart tighten in his chest, but grits his teeth as he looks up at Papyrus.

“...that's… fine, I guess.”

“Alright. C’mere…”

He feels Papyrus’ arms slip under his knees and shoulders, and gasps, reflexively tensing up.

“W-Wait, not --”

“Hm?”

Sans can feel Papyrus’ questioning look on him, and reaches up with what little energy he has to tug at the scarf around his neck.

“...not… like that,” he mumbles, looking away. “Don’t carry me like that. ...please.”

For a moment, he expects Papyrus to lose his cool, to ask  _ why are you being so difficult, _ and even for him to just pick Sans up anyway and carry him off. It’s not like he has the energy to really protest, anyway.

Instead, Papyrus just sighs, and carefully sits Sans up before moving to sit in front of him.

“Put your arms around my shoulders, then, kiddo,” he instructs, hooking his arms under Sans’ knees and pulling him close.

Sans blinks, but reaches for the back of Papyrus’ hoodie, his hands weakly climbing up the orange fabric until he finally drapes his arms over the other’s shoulders.

His hands grab hold of the hoodie as Papyrus pushes himself back to his feet, picking up Sans with him.

“Is this alright, then?” Papyrus asks, turning his head just a bit to look at Sans.

It still feels painfully like being carried by his brother, especially with the way he’s being looked at, so Sans feebly reaches and pulls Papyrus’ bright orange hood over his face.

“...a little better,” he mutters, letting himself sink against Papyrus.

Papyrus snorts quietly as he starts walking, stepping down from the trash heap they’d been resting on and into the murky water.

Sans doesn’t want to feel as comfortable as he does, especially with the way he has to literally cling onto someone who still seems like a stranger to him. But being as exhausted as he is, Sans can’t muster the energy to stay on edge... 

And even if he could, he can’t deny that the magic he feels humming softly from Papyrus’ body feels almost… familiar.

“You alright there?”

“Hm…?”

Sans doesn’t realize his hold on Papyrus’ hoodie is loosening, and he can’t fight to keep his eyes open.

“...I’ll wake you up when we get there, alright, kiddo?” the taller skeleton says, hiking Sans a little higher on his back to keep him from sliding off. “You just take it easy ‘til then.”

Despite himself, Sans finally relents, and fully sinks his weight against Papyrus.

“Hn… ‘kay…” he mumbles, already feeling sleep settling over him like a thick, comfortable fog.


	6. Determination I

_“Hmm… a shame. I thought you had more fight in you than that.”_

_He tries to scream, but his whole body is frozen in the exact moment before he starts to turn into dust._

_“Let's try this one more time,” the scientist sighs, reversing the effects of the Determination Extractor and watching as Sans’ body solidifies once more. “If you're going to give up so easily, then I'll have to use your brother, instead… Is that what you want me to do?”_

_Before he can even try to free himself from the machine's hold, Sans feels his whole body burning, like his soul is being ripped out, and he_ **_screams--_ **

“ _Sans!_ ”

The cry is still in his throat as his eyes fly open, his hands clawing into the soft fabric in front of him.

 _not my brother_ **_not my brother leave my brother alone…_ ** _leave… my brother..._

The sharp edges of the nightmare erode away, and Sans finds himself staring up at Papyrus, his hands hooked into the bright orange fabric of the other’s hoodie.

_...alone…?_

“You okay, kiddo?” Papyrus asks, crouching down a bit to look Sans square in the eye. “You wouldn’t stop fidgeting, then you started crying out… We couldn’t understand what you were saying, though. Gave us a bit of a scare, heh.”

Sans stares blankly at Papyrus, eyes hollow as he has to force himself to breathe.

“...Sans?”

He doesn’t even flinch as the taller skeleton reaches out, tentatively placing a hand on Sans’ upper arm.

 _… just… another dream,_ he finally tells himself, the light slowly flickering back into his eyes. _just a dream this time. not… not real._

With a slow, heavy sigh, Sans leans back, still oblivious to the look of concern on Papyrus’ face.

_not real._

“C’mon, kiddo… at least give me _some_ kinda answer, will ya?”

Sans closes his eyes for a long moment before opening them again, making eye contact with Papyrus.

“Sorry,” he mutters, voice weak as he forces out a small laugh. “Just… had a bad dream. That’s all.”

Papyrus’ brow furrows, but before he can open his mouth to speak, Sans is already glancing around the room to examine his surroundings.

“So, uh… this is the lab, huh?” Sans asks, spinning around slowly as soon as he realizes he’s sitting in a rolling chair. “...blue fishy wallpaper, huh? I can already tell this is definitely Undyne’s lab, heh. But… looks like she’s not here?”

“...yeah, Undyne, uh… had to go to the basement to take care of a few things, she said,” Papyrus nods, but Sans can hear him biting back concern as the taller skeleton stands up. “She’ll be back up in a little bit.”

“Alright… cool.”

Sans’ back is to Papyrus, but he doesn’t turn to look as he feels the taller skeleton lean over the back of the chair. Instead, he shuffles around some of the papers on Undyne’s desk, and briefly reads over the sloppy scribbles before dropping them back down.

He isn’t surprised to see Alphys’ name scrawled in the margins, surrounded by small hearts.

“You, uh, looking for something in particular?” Papyrus asks, reaching into his pocket with one hand to fetch a cigarette.

“Nah, just… kinda looking, I guess,” Sans shrugs, finding the blue fish-shaped teacup tucked behind the ancient computer monitor. “I’m just… curious to see what’s different, y’know?”

He peeks into the cup, and quickly sets it back down with a grimace as he's greeted by the sight of thick green mold growing along the bottom.

“Yeah, Undyne ain't really, uh, always one for organization,” Papyrus chuckles, taking a long drag of his cigarette and slowly letting the smoke billow out from his nasal cavity. “But even if you’re ‘just looking,’ it's still kinda rude to be going through other people’s stuff, y’know?”

Sans doesn’t normally let himself feel scolded, but this time he turns back to fix Papyrus with a stare, mind already forming a whole slew of comebacks--

“Oh! He’s awake!”

Both skeletons turn their heads at the sound of a voice coming from the other end of the lab.

He’s never seen Undyne without her eyepatch, and it’s disconcerting how… _natural,_ almost, she looks in a lab coat. But as she approaches, looping her long ponytail into a messy bun, Sans will admit one thing to himself -- it’s certainly less terrifying than being chased through Waterfall by a berserker Alphys.

“Hi there,” Undyne greets warmly, though Sans can see the nervousness in her toothy smile as she leans over her desk to extend a hand. “I’m Dr. Undyne. I’m Toriel’s Royal Scientist. It’s, um, it’s nice to meet you, Sans!”

“Y-Yeah, uh… same,” Sans nods slowly in return, carefully grabbing Undyne’s hand.

Undyne shakes his hand twice, holds the contact for a few awkward seconds longer, then finally lets go with a sheepish look on her blue, scaly face.

“S-So! Um!” she begins, stammering a little as she shoves her hands into her coat pockets. “Papyrus told me that you’re, um -- that you’re not from our timeline, and that you, um -- that you can… kind of…”

As Undyne trails off, Sans finds himself watching her, as though silently goading her into finishing that sentence.

“...that I can…?” he prompts, as lightly as he can manage.

“...th-that you can, um… reset. At least a little.”

He can’t stop himself from shooting a brief, hard look at Papyrus.

“Look, kiddo, I could only go off what little bit you told me, alright?” the taller skeleton sighs, unfazed by Sans’ expression. “And you told me you got here because you screwed up a reset. Undyne can’t help if we lie to her.”

Sans is less than pleased by Papyrus’ explanation, but sighs, and slumps in the chair.

“...so what’s the plan, then?” he asks, flicking his gaze back up to Undyne.

Undyne clears her throat, straightening the frames of her glasses.

“W-Well, um,” she begins, tugging at the neckline of her tank top. “I was thinking that if we can, um… if we can trace your magical signature, we might be able to f-find, um, a way back to… back to the timeline you’re supposed to be from. I just, uh, I just need to do a test with you to try and--”

Sans doesn’t even realize he’s teleported until he collapses on the ground in a heap, the sound of his bones clattering against the ground louder than Undyne’s shocked gasp.

“ _I didn’t come here to be a lab rat,_ ” he seethes, his exhaustion secondary to the panic coursing through his bones.

“Sans, it’s not--”

Papyrus stops mid-step in his slow approach as Sans glares at him, eye blazing blue.

“ _I trusted you,_ ” Sans seethes, sliding backwards a short distance until he accidentally bumps up against a wall. “You told me she would _help._ ”

“She _will,_ Sans, if you just _let her--_ ”

“Let her _what?_ Hook me up to machines and leave me to _rot_ in some dark corner of the lab until--”

Sans chokes on his words as Papyrus suddenly appears in front of him, closing the distance in the time it takes him to blink.

“Sans,” Papyrus says, his voice patient as he kneels down beside the smaller skeleton. “You’re overreacting. Nothing is going to happen to you.”

He thinks momentarily of teleporting away, of vanishing straight out of the lab, but something about the softness of Papyrus’ words forces Sans to stay rooted in place, mind racing, until...

“...you… you can’t _make_ me do this _,_ ” Sans hisses, but the light in his eye flickers, just a bit.

“And if you’d _listen,_ you’d hear that nobody’s even _trying_ to,” Papyrus sighs, rubbing his face with both hands. “...sorry. Bad way to put it. But just… just hear Undyne out, okay? Just listen, and if you’re not okay with the plan, then… we’ll figure something else out. Alright?”

He doesn’t turn his head away from Papyrus, but Sans glances out the corner of his eyesockets to look at Undyne, halfway across the room.

Even from this distance, he sees the shrinking timidity in her posture. He sees the way she grabs at her lab coat to pull it around her as if in consolation. And it’s a far cry from the looming menace of his nightmares.

Sans lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, and slumps against the wall, his pupils returning as the blue glow of his left eye fades.

“...fine,” he mutters, barely more than a whisper.

Papyrus pushes himself back to his feet and holds out a hand, but Sans ignores it in favor of pulling himself up along the wall. His legs shake under his weight, but he's able to carry himself back over to the desk before he collapses back into the chair, ignoring Undyne’s stunned expression.

“...what kind of ‘test’ do you need to do?” he mutters, slouching as deep into the chair as he can without sliding out.

“Um, well…”

* * *

“Hey, kiddo. You doin’ alright?”

Sans lazily flicks his gaze up to see Papyrus sliding onto the desk by him, sitting on some presumably unimportant papers. In the background, he can still see Undyne typing away at the impossibly large computer near the front of the lab, doing only she knows what.

“...yeah, I guess,” he mutters, rubbing his temple before waving his hand weakly to show off the clip on his finger, wired to a small device wrapped around his wrist. “Just a little, uh… _wired,_ heh.”

Papyrus chuckles, and even Sans manages a small smile before he sighs.

“Gotta say, I, uh… never would've guessed that it was possible to actually, uh… trace timelines, I guess,” Sans admits, slouching a little more in his seat. “Pretty neat, actually.”

“Yeah, uh… Undyne actually figured that out before she became the official Royal Scientist,” Papyrus nods, scratching lightly at his jaw. “Something about each timeline having a ‘magical signature,’ I think. Makes it kinda reassuring, though, knowing… y’know. That the resets aren't just us losing our minds, heh.”

Sans quietly clenches his fist into the scarf on his neck.

“...yeah,” he mutters, his voice almost nonexistent. “...reassuring.”

The silence that settles is palpable to the point that even Undyne’s quiet typing at the console is a thunderous racket, but eventually Papyrus lets out a long sigh.

“You, uh… you're just full of surprises, aren't you, kiddo?”

Something about the way he says it doesn't sit right with Sans, and he looks up in time to see the taller skeleton light a cigarette.

“Care to elaborate?” he asks lightly, resting his chin in his curled palm as he leans on the armrest.

Papyrus shrugs softly, taking a deep drag of his cigarette and holding onto the smoke.

“I mean, I've only known you for a day, and the, uh… circumstances for us meeting are… what they are,” he begins, letting the white fumes billow out from behind his teeth. “But, y'know… I can't shake the feeling that no matter what, you're always gonna create more questions than you answer.”

Sans feels something claw at the base of his spine, and he sits up a little straighter.

“Is that a problem?” he smiles, but the corners of his mouth are tight as he stares unblinking at Papyrus.

“Relax, kiddo,” the taller skeleton shakes his head. “It's just an observation. If it becomes a problem, I'll be sure to let you know.”

Even as Papyrus looks away, Sans can't quite bring himself to relax again. Not yet. Not after that.

“Okay, Sans, I, um, I think I got what I need.”

Sans is grateful for the distraction as Undyne steps away from the console, approaching the skeletons sitting at her desk.

“You think?” he asks as the scientist removes the device from his hand. “What, did something not go right?”

“N-No, I definitely got a reading,” Undyne assures, but Sans can hear the hesitation in her voice. “It's just, um… it was a lot… weaker than I expected. Especially for someone who can, uh, manipulate the timeline? But I--”

“Don't give me that much credit.”

“H-huh?”

Sans can't bring himself to look Undyne in the eye.

“Don't… give me that much credit,” he repeats, much quieter this time. “...I didn't… do it alone.”

He feels Papyrus’ gaze on him, and can't shake the sensation of something cold crawling on his back.

“Well… regardless, I'm still going to, um, try and do a scan with what we got,” Undyne finally picks up, giving a small awkward laugh. “M-maybe I can, um, still pick up a trace on your timeline, and we can… we can work from there, okay?”

Words fail Sans as he tries to feign the same sense of optimism, but he's able to at least give Undyne a small nod and a weak smile.

“Thanks again, Undyne,” Papyrus says, sliding off the desk, pulling some papers onto the floor with him as he does so. “I know this is a lot to ask on such short notice…”

“O-Oh, no -- no problem!” the scientist shakes her head, tucking a stray bit of hair behind her fin. “You know I’ll help any way I can, so -- so don’t worry about it!”

He tries to keep paying attention, at least a little, but Sans lets Undyne and Papyrus’ voices fade into the background of his thoughts as his hands curl into loose fists in his lap.

_i didn’t do it alone..._

He still can’t shake the feeling of something cold and painful crawling down his back.

“Hey, kiddo.”

Sans gasps before looking up, and sees the look of muted concern on Papyrus’ face.

“Sorry,” the shorter skeleton apologizes, forcing a small smile. “Just... thinking about stuff. Uh, what’d I miss?”

“...nothing much,” Papyrus shrugs half-heartedly, taking one last drag of his cigarette before he pinches out the smolder. “Just Undyne saying that she’s gonna get right to work before she headed to the basement, so if you wanted to go back home…”

Sans’ soul twists into uncomfortable knots, but he keeps his forced smile as he slides out of the chair.

“Yeah, sure,” he nods, shoving his hands into his hoodie pockets. “...let’s go.”

* * *

“ _Hmm hm hm…_ ”

“Whatcha thinkin’ about, kiddo?”

Sans looks up from the sole of the boat, letting his eyes lock with Papyrus’.

It had been no small relief to either of them to find the riverperson waiting for them at the Hotland crossing; it had been no small relief to Sans, either, that the riverperson is just as ambiguous here as back home. It hadn’t been the comfort he would have chosen for himself, but…

“...nothing, really,” Sans lies, shrugging softly.

“You’re a pretty good liar, Sans,” Papyrus replies, raising a browbone at the smaller skeleton. “But not when you don’t put any effort into it.”

Sans rolls his eyes, and lets a small, frustrated sigh escape him.

“C’mon, kiddo. Just tell me what’s bugging ya. Maybe I can help.”

He pauses, mulling over his thoughts momentarily, while Papyrus continues watching him carefully.

“...you, uh… really think Undyne can… help?” Sans finally asks, letting a trace of doubt creep into his voice.

“Sure do,” Papyrus nods, not even hesitating to answer. “I know she acts like she’s not sure of what she’s doing… but Undyne’s got a good head on her shoulders. And when she gets to work on something… I think the only person I’ve seen more determined than her is Alphys, heh. She’ll find a way.”

“...is that so.”

Sans looks down at his hands, ignoring the inquisitive look Papyrus gives him.

“...must be nice,” he mutters quietly, “to have that kind of determination on your own.”

“Sans…?”

“Determination…”

Both skeletons look up at the riverperson, as though unsure of what they’ve just heard.

“Sorry?” Papyrus asks, leaning back a bit.

“...I am small, and I am weak,” the riverperson hums, voice airy. “But if I stay determined… then all things are possible.”

Papyrus shakes his head, chuckling lightly before turning to look back at Sans.

“Don’t mind them,” he says, smiling a bit. “Sometimes they like to chime in randomly. At least this time it was somewhat relevant, heh.”

“...yeah, it’s, uh… it’s fine. The riverperson back home, uh… is the same way.”

Papyrus lets out another soft laugh before looking further down the river, as though looking for Snowdin.

Sans stares back up at the distant ceiling, and catches himself mulling over the riverperson’s words.

 _if i stay determined, huh…?_ he thinks, and a tired scoff escapes him. _yeah, right. i tried that already, and now look where i am. so much for “all things are possible,” huh?_

And yet, Sans can’t shake this unfamiliar feeling in his soul that maybe… just maybe…

_...nah. it… that won’t work._

_...will it?_

“...hey… Papyrus.”

“Mm? What’s up, kiddo?”

Sans grabs softly at his scarf, and looks up at Papyrus, taking a deep breath.

“...I need someone to… help me practice my magic,” he begins, carefully. “...mind giving me a hand with that tomorrow?”

Papyrus blinks, then shrugs a shoulder.

“Yeah, sure, if you want,” he agrees, scratching lightly at his temple. “But, uh… you mind me asking why?”

Sans fixes Papyrus with the same disarming smile he usually reserves for lying to his brother.

“Well, I dunno how long I’m gonna be here,” he explains, voice light. “And, uh, if I’m gonna be here for a while… I don’t really like the idea of not even being able to do my favorite trick without being exhausted. But I’m… well, I’m lazy, y’know? It’ll be easier for me to practice if I’ve got a buddy.”

Sans watches expectantly as Papyrus reaches to scratch the bridge of his nasal cavity, breathing out heavily.

“Yeah, sure thing, kiddo,” he repeats. “But uh, fair warning -- I dunno how much help I’ll be. I can be pretty lazy myself, heh.”

“Heh… well, maybe in this case, two skulls will be better than one, then.”

Papyrus laughs, and Sans’ smile even becomes genuine for a moment before he closes his eyes, folding his bony hands over his ribs.

The idea in his head is half-formed, at best. And Sans isn’t even fully convinced it’s a good one, or that it will even work.

But he takes a deep breath, and lets this unfamiliar feeling of _determination_ fill his bones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The device Undyne is using to measure Sans' magic is basically a modified pulse oximeter. 
> 
> Work's got me working nine days straight soon, so next chapter may be slow in coming -- you know, my standard disclaimer. Hope you enjoyed the chapter!


	7. Moving Mountains

“Why isn’t this  _ working?! _ ”

Papyrus is silent as he pulls Sans out of the river once again, letting the smaller skeleton collapse into the deep snow before he sits beside him.

“Maybe we should take a break, kiddo,” he suggests quietly. “This is your fourth time in the water. You’ll get sick at this rate.”

“But it shouldn’t be this  _ hard to teleport! _ ” Sans growls, rolling over in the snow to glare angrily upwards. “This is the first trick I learned, but now -- even if I  _ can _ do it, it burns up so much of my magic that I can’t do anything  _ else _ after! And I don’t understand  _ why! _ ”

Sans follows his words with an agitated growl, and reaches up to claw at his face in frustration before letting his arms fall back into the snow.

“...kiddo, I’m gonna  _ insist _ that we take a break,” Papyrus sighs, reaching into his hoodie pocket for a cigarette. “You’re getting wound up, and that’s no way to make any progress. We can come back to it today, just… not right now. Alright?”

Sans tries to turn and frown at Papyrus, but the snowdrift he’s fallen into is too deep. Instead, he sighs, letting the none-too-vague feeling of aggravation wash over him.

“...fine,” he grumbles. struggling to push himself back to his feet. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I need a break.”

Papyrus extends a hand towards Sans, but Sans ignores it, able to stand on his own. But the violent shiver that overtakes him nearly knocks him back to the ground, and he pulls his sopping wet hoodie tighter around him as though it will keep the cold out.

“Good thing we’re close to home, eh?” the taller skeleton says, and Sans can hear him trying to keep the faint chuckle out of his voice. “C’mon, let’s head back so you can change into some dry clothes. I’m sure I’ve got  _ something _ that’ll fit you…”

Through the discomfort of his wet, ice-cold clothes sticking to his bones, Sans feels some other uncomfortable chill crawling over his body.

“...Yeah, uh… good thing we’re close to… home,” he forces himself to agree as he steps out of his snow depression. “Let’s -- let’s head back, yeah? It’s, uh, it’s colder out here than I thought.”

“Well, yeah, when you’re soaking wet and out in all this  _ snow… _ ”

Papyrus’ voice fades into the background of his thoughts as Sans mulls over his words.

_ “Good thing we’re close to home…” _

His thin, bony fingers claw into the sopping fabric of his hoodie, and Sans tries to forget that the word  _ home _ ever passed through his teeth.

* * *

The plan had been to relax, but Sans didn’t realize how exhausted he really was until a knock on the bathroom door startles him back awake in the tub.

“You alright in there, kiddo?” Papyrus’ voice says from the other side of the door. “You’ve been in there a while… makin’ sure you didn’t pass out in there.”

“Y-Yeah, I’m fine!” Sans replies hastily, the still-hot water sloshing around him as he sits up. “Just, uh, relaxing like you suggested, that’s all!”

He can feel the silence that settles over them both, but eventually he hears Papyrus clear his throat.

“I’m, uh, gonna run out and get us something to eat real quick from Muffet’s,” the taller skeleton says. “I’m just… gonna leave these clothes I found for you outside the door, here. I shouldn’t be gone long, though.”

“Oh, uh… alright, then. Uh, thanks, Papyrus.”

He hears Papyrus’ soft chuckle drifting away from the door, and shortly thereafter, the sound of the front door opening, then being slammed shut.

It’s a minute longer before Sans lets himself slide fully back into the bath, the water lapping gently under his chin. But even as the momentary panic from being woken unexpectedly ebbs away, he finds himself unable to slip back into the comfortable, almost trance-like state from before, instead remaining annoyingly awake.

The heat still feels nice on his bones, though, so he lingers for a few minutes longer before finally prying himself out of the tub. The warmth radiates from his body, a wonderful contrast to the bone-chilling cold from before, and it lingers with him even as he dries himself off and wraps a towel around his body to open the door.

Part of him had hoped to find his clothes waiting on other side; instead, he finds a faded orange hoodie half-folded on the floor, on top of which rest a black tank top and tan cargo shorts. Sans has a feeling that none of it will fit him properly, but he grabs it all anyway, bringing it into the bathroom with him before shutting the door.

He’s right, in a way; the hoodie and tank top stop halfway down his femur, and the bottom of the shorts brush along the tops of his ankles. Still, the shorts fit comfortably around his hips, and if he pushes the cuffs of the sleeves up high enough on his arms, his hands aren’t swimming in a sea of fabric.

_ it’s good enough until  _ **_my_ ** _ clothes are dry, i guess, _ Sans decides as he finally leaves the bathroom, wandering into the living room.

Despite his reluctance to be wearing it, though, as he collapses onto the couch, he can’t deny that this hoodie is softer on the inside than his own. The softness feels comfortable on his bones, and, coupled with the warmth still radiating off of him from the bath, Sans feels himself relaxing, eyes slowly sliding closed…

“...hey, kiddo. Can you at least scoot over a bit…?”

The words drift to him as though through a fog, and Sans has to force his eyes to open, heavy with sleep.

Papyrus is crouched down beside him, a calm, patient expression on his face and a plastic bag hanging from his arm.

“...mnh…?”

With a tired groan, Sans pushes himself to a sitting position as he rubs the sleep out of his eyesockets.

“...how long was I out?” he asks, voice still thick with exhaustion as Papyrus sits in the empty space Sans created.

“Dunno,” the taller skeleton answers, putting the bag on his knee and pulling two takeout containers from it. “I only got home a few minutes ago. I didn’t wake you up right away ‘cause, well… figured you could use the rest.”

Papyrus sets one of the containers on Sans’ leg, and the smaller skeleton blinks at it briefly before he opens it.

“...what’s this?”

“Chicken fingers,” Papyrus says, opening his own container of mostaccioli noodles in sauce. “You didn’t seem to like the tacos so much, so I got something else for you. Got ‘em ‘cause they came with fries. Oh, whoops -- knew I forgot something…”

Sans doesn’t look up as Papyrus gets up and heads to the kitchen; instead, he quietly pokes at the food with his fingers, examining it carefully.

Under the chicken is a small cup of yellow sauce that looks like it could be mustard, and he opens it, hesitating for a moment before picking up a fry and dipping it into the sauce.

The moment he bites into the fry, however, his whole face scrunches up, and it takes all his self-control not to spit the food back out.

“You, uh, you alright there, kiddo?”

Sans looks up in time to see Papyrus sitting back down, the taller skeleton fixing him with a bemused expression.

“What  _ is _ this sauce?” Sans asks, still slightly gagging at the taste in his mouth.

“Huh? It’s, uh, it’s just honey mustard,” Papyrus frowns a bit, stirring his own honey-slathered noodles around. “Not a fan, I take it?”

“Thought it was regular mustard,” Sans shakes his head, grabbing a few fries and shoveling them into his mouth to take away the taste. “I prefer ketchup, and can  _ tolerate _ mustard, but  _ that _ …”

Papyrus lets out a quiet chuckle, and Sans grumbles as he chews on his dry fries, slumping back against the couch.

“Well, I don’t know if you’re still up for ‘training’ after this,” the taller skeleton says, stuffing his own face with honey-coated pasta. “But, uh, I figured after lunch, we can do whatever you want. Train, go somewhere, be lazy… your pick, kiddo.”

Sans takes a chicken finger and bites into it thoughtfully, mulling over his options. Sleep still lingers along the edges of his mind, and after the failure that was this morning, doing nothing sounds like a perfectly viable option to him.

**_and how do you expect to get home if you don’t even try?_ **

A small frown crosses his face, and Sans stops mid-bite.

This voice in his head is familiar. Not his, but…  _ familiar. _

“Sans? You alright?”

He jumps, just a bit, and realizes he’s been sitting with half a piece of chicken pinched between his teeth for at least a few seconds. 

“Y-Yeah, just, uh… just thinking, is all,” he apologizes, quickly pushing the rest of the chicken finger into his mouth.

“Emphasis on the ‘just’?” Papyrus chuckles, his words paired up with a harmless smile. “Nah, I kid. What’s on your mind?”

He can’t shake the small frown off his face, so Sans instead grabs another small handful of fries and shoves them into his mouth.

_ what i wouldn’t do for some ketchup right now… _

The other voice is silent, and Sans wonders if maybe he’d just imagined it to begin with.

“...just that the chicken is a little dry, is all,” he tells Papyrus, managing to shoot him a half-smile. “And that I think I’d like to keep practicing my magic when we’re done eating. ...if that’s alright.”

“Hey, I wouldn’t have suggested it if it wasn’t. If that’s what you wanna do, I’ll be happy to help.”

Satisfied, Sans finally relaxes against the back of the couch, now taking his time to enjoy his food as best he can.

It’s still not the taste of home, but the fries make it close.

* * *

“Well, you’re getting closer, at least…? You’ve stayed out of the river this time; that’s progress, right?”

Sans can only answer with an agitated growl as he throws himself into the snow, feeling it fill up the cavities in his face. Papyrus sighs, rubs the back of his skull, and sits down next to the smaller skeleton.

“It shouldn't be this  _ hard _ ,” Sans finally whines, voice muffled by a faceful of snow. “I don't  _ get it. _ ”

“Don't beat yourself up too hard, kiddo,” Papyrus says, gently. “You've only been practicing for a day, you can't expect perfection right away.”

“Don't tell me what to expect,” Sans grumbles, but he can't muster up as much venom as he'd like as he props himself up on his elbows. “You don't know what I’m capable of.”

“Alright, alright…”

Sans pushes himself to a sitting position, but hangs there for a few moments while Papyrus lights up a cigarette.

_ Something _ isn't working the way it should; that much is painfully obvious. Back home, Sans had this trick mastered, easy as breathing. So  _ why _ is it so _ hard _ now? It's not like anything has changed.

_...except that _ **_everything_ ** _ has changed, _ he snorts quietly to himself.  **_everything_ ** _ has changed, I'm not  _ **_at_ ** _ home, i… i… _

“...maybe… that’s it.”

“Hm?”

Sans looks down at his hands, then glances out the corner of his eyesockets at Papyrus.

“Hey,” he says, reaching out. “Gimme your hand and try to teleport.”

“Uh? Kiddo, I already told you I can’t move anyone but myself--”

“I’m not asking you to move both of us,” Sans interrupts, shaking his hand lightly at Papyrus. “I’m asking you to do it in a way so that I can feel what you’re doing. Please.”

Sans sees the skeptical look in Papyrus’ bony expression, but the taller skeleton obliges, putting his hand in Sans’.

He can feel the magic quietly thrumming through Papyrus’ bones.

“It’s… a feeling I can’t really put into words,” the lanky skeleton admits, taking a long drag of his cigarette before exhaling slowly. “But it’s something kinda like--”

He feels the rush of magic, and suddenly Papyrus is gone, reappearing several feet away as though he’d been there the whole time.

“--that,” Papyrus finishes, looking at his cigarette to see that the end has gone out. “Sorry, it’s, uh… it’s the best I can explain it.”

Sans stares at his hand, slowly curling and flexing his fingers as a small frown passes over his face.

“I… I think I know what you did,” he mutters, finally clenching a fist. “So instead of what I’ve been doing… maybe if I try moving like  _ this… _ ”

He takes a deep breath, then holds it tight in his chest as he focuses all his magic inward, eyes shut tight as he tries to put himself beside Papyrus--

An overwhelming dizziness knocks Sans over into the snow, and he gasps in shock, not expecting to feel the sudden cold on his bones.

“Hey, not bad, kiddo! Maybe I’m a better teacher than I thought, heh.”

Sans looks up, and Papyrus looks back down at him, a pleased grin pulling at the corners of his jaw.

“... I… I did it?”

“You sure did,” Papyrus chuckles as Sans rolls over onto his back, staring up with a breathless expression. “First try and everything. It takes a while to get used to the dizziness, though, so…”

The rest of his words fade away in Sans’ mind as a wide smile pulls at the corners of his mouth.

_ i did it… i can still do it. _

**_and if you keep this up this kind of training, your little plan might even work._ **

The same voice from earlier responds to his thoughts, but this time, Sans is too excited to question its origin.

_ yeah… i might even be able to-- _

“Heh… that’s a good look on you.”

Sans blinks, snapped out of his internal dialogue as he notices the warm look on Papyrus’ face.

“Uh?” he asks, confused. “What’s a good look?”

“You were smiling,” Papyrus explains, now disguising his own expression behind the hand holding his cigarette to his teeth. “You looked… happy, for a moment. ...it was a good look for you.”

He can’t stop himself from staring at Papyrus, even as the lanky skeleton fidgets a bit and quickly burns through the rest of his cigarette.

“Don’t mind me,” Papyrus finally drawls, turning to toss the butt into the snow. “I’m just a sentimental bag of bones, after all. You, uh, you wanna keep training, or did you wanna call it a day?”

_...an answer stupid, you gotta give him an answer. _

“We, uh… we can head back,” Sans finally responds, slowly propping himself up in the snow. “I’m, uh, I’m pretty beat from all that work, anyway, heh--”

“ _ You!! _ ”

Sans slips back into his snow indentation, and Papyrus quickly whips his head around to follow the sound of the voice, cracking the vertebrae in his neck.

“Oh…  _ shit. _ ”

When Sans pushes himself back up, he sees Alphys bundled up in layers, marching towards them with fury in her stride.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I asked my friend Bunny what would Sans eat if he couldn't have burgers, and from there, the honey mustard joke wrote itself. It's **not an insult to the pairing,** though; I'm just a sucker for really bad jokes. uwu
> 
> Work, cosplay, work, cosplay, you know I'll try to get the next chapter out ASAP. <3


	8. Crash and Burn

“ _ Goodness, _ Sans, you look so  _ tense. _ Nothing’s  _ wrong, _ is there?”

Sans’ ghastly smile widens ever so slightly as he stares down the couch at Alphys.

She had followed them back to the house, despite every fiber of Sans’ being wanting her  _ gone. _ But Alphys made it unfailingly clear that she would  _ not _ take no for an answer, so Papyrus begrudgingly invited her back, making sure Sans stayed by his side the entire way home.

“Just until she gets whatever’s bugging her off her chest,” Papyrus had whispered to Sans, but that was already proving to be far too long for Sans’ tastes.

“No, of  _ course _ not,” he answers in a bone-chillingly cold voice as his eyesockets go hollow. “Why on  _ earth _ would you think _ that _ , Alphys?”

“Oh, you know,” Alphys smiles tersely, matching Sans’ tone to the very degree as she clenches her fists. “I'm just  _ worried _ , is all! After all, it must be  _ so hard _ keeping up  _ appearances _ to try and fool everyone--”

“That's  _ enough _ , Alphys.”

Both the lizard and the skeleton look to the kitchen to see Papyrus walking out, balancing three glasses in his hands.

“Don't  _ defend _ him, Papyrus!” Alphys barks, snatching the cup of soda offered to her. “ _ You, _ of  _ all _ monsters, should know by know that he's an  _ impostor! _ And he's not even a  _ good _ one at that!’

“Gee, that's funny,” Sans bites back, “yesterday I was apparently good enough to fool _ you _ . Or maybe you were just too blind to tell the difference yourself? Had to have someone spell it out for you, huh?”

“You little--!”

“ _ Both _ of you,  _ enough!! _ ”

Sans immediately shrinks into the couch, and even Alphys bites her tongue; Papyrus holds his hard expression a few moments longer before heaving a forceful sigh, and pushes a coffee mug into Sans’ bony hands.

“ _ Both _ of you need to  _ calm down, _ ” Papyrus growls quietly as he takes a sip from his own mug. “Going at each other's throats is just gonna make the situation  _ worse _ . Just… everyone calm down.”

“Papyrus, how can you stand to defend this--”

“Everyone  _ take. A drink. And calm.  _ **_Down._ ** ”

The gravel in Papyrus’ voice make Sans’ next choice of actions very obvious, and he quickly takes a sip of his coffee. As the bitter liquid burns its way down his throat, he hears Alphys snort, and watches with no small sense of distrust as Alphys chugs half her glass of soda in one go.

“...there,” Papyrus says, his words now void of their former sharp edge. “Now that we’ve taken a moment to collect ourselves… let’s talk it out now, shall we?”

_ let’s not, _ Sans thinks, but keeps the thought to himself as Alphys shifts in her spot on the couch.

“I don’t see what there is to  _ talk about, _ ” the lizard growls, fixing her one good eye on Sans in a deep-set scowl.

“Well, let’s start with what Undyne told you, then,” Papyrus suggests, shifting to stand just slightly closer to Sans. “I’m assuming that’s how you found out, given that she’s the only other person that knows about Sans. About  _ this _ Sans.”

Alphys only flicks her glare to Papyrus for the briefest of moments before her expression towards Sans darkens, but she takes a deep breath before opening her mouth again.

“Undyne told me… that  _ this _ Sans isn’t from our world,” she begins, muttering. “That he’s from… some other timeline altogether. ...that you two are trying to find a way to send him back home before he fixes what he’s done.”

Something hot boils up in Sans’ stomach, and he sits up, the oversized sleeves of Papyrus’ hoodie spilling over his hands.

“I didn't  _ do _ anything,” he growls, bony fingers clawing at the mug in his hands.

“You think not?” Alphys snaps. “Then where's  _ our  _ Sans, huh? He's been missing ever since  _ you _ showed up, hasn't he? Do you really expect me to believe that's a  _ coincidence? _ Do you think I'm that  _ stupid? _ ”

She pauses, then shoots a disgusted look at Papyrus.

“Then again, with  _ him _ not even  _ caring  _ that his _ brother's _ missing, I'm not surprised you got that impression.”

For all the fire in her words, Sans can feel the cold chill that slowly fills the room.

“Now you're going too far, Alphys,” Papyrus growls quietly, sipping his coffee with great deliberation. “I'll take that apology any time.”

“Apology…? Yeah, okay, here's your apology,” Alphys sneers, crossing her arms. “Sorry I got  _ confused _ by the fact that you're not treating him like the _ fake _ he is, like the monster who _ took your brother _ that he  _ is-- _ ”

“I didn't--!”

“ _ Enough. _ ”

Sans looks up to see Papyrus’ features carved not from bone, but ice, as he scowls at Alphys.

“At this point, it doesn’t really matter whether or not Sans is responsible for my brother’s disappearance,” Papyrus seethes, right eye flashing orange for the briefest of moments. “Hounding him about it isn't going to bring him back. The best we can do is try to send this Sans home and hope that wherever my brother is… that they're trying to do the same.”

“...that… that's  _ it? _ ”

Alphys rises from the couch, and even her scarred eye opens slightly as she stares in disbelief at Papyrus.

“That's  _ all you're doing? _ ”  she repeats, fists clenched and shaking. “You're… you're gonna  _ send him back _ when he's the only one who might even know where Sans  _ is?! _ Have you lost your  _ mind, _ or -- or do you just not  _ care _ about your--”

“ _ What would you have me do, Alphys!? _ ”

Even she flinches as Papyrus bellows at her, throwing his mug to the ground and letting it shatter near his feet.

“If  _ you _ know what I should do, then  _ tell me! _ ” he roars, gesturing wildly. “Do  _ you _ know where Sans is?! Can  _ you _ bring him back, Alphys?!”

Alphys clenches her jaw as Papyrus stares her down, fury etched into his face.

“ _ Well!? _ ”

“...no,” she finally spits out, like the word is a hot coal in her mouth. “...I  _ can’t. _ ”

Papyrus straightens his posture, then exhales forcefully as he reaches into his hoodie pocket for a cigarette.

“That’s what I thought,” he growls, lighting the cigarette and breathing in the smoke as though it were fresh air. “...that’s what I thought.”

The silence that fills the room is only softly broken by a quiet shuffling sound from the couch.

“...not… what I…”

The words pass through his teeth as barely more than a whisper, but it’s enough to pull Alphys’ and Papyrus’ attention back onto him.

Sans can’t stop his bones from rattling as he claws at his face, arms pulled in from the hoodle sleeves and fingers hooking on the edges of his hollowed eyesockets.

“...not what I wanted,” he croaks, pulling his legs in as though he can shrink out of existence. “Not what, not… not what I… I…!”

He doesn’t even feel the hand being placed cautiously on his back.

“I want to go home _ , _ ” Sans wheezes, pulling at his face like a mask he’s trying to pry off. “I want, I… I want…”

“I know you do, kiddo,” Papyrus murmurs with a forced softness, smoke gently creeping out from behind his teeth. “We’re trying to get you there, remember…? Just… we gotta wait for Undyne, and--”

“ _ I want my brother back…! _ ”

The words slip out in a tongue he hasn't used in years, but Sans doesn't even realize as he pulls his knees into his chest, his whole body rattling violently. Fingers still latched around the edges of his sockets, he squeezes his eyes shut as much as he can, like trying to wake himself from another nightmare.

“S… Sans, I don't know what you're--”

“ _ Where is he?! _ ” Sans howls through his bone-rattling sobs. “ _ I want him back. I want my brother back! Bring him back to me!! _ ”

“ _ Sans-- _ ”

With a sudden jolt like electricity running through his bones, Sans turns, locking his hollow gaze with Papyrus’.

“... _ You're… not him _ .”

“I  _ still _ can't understand what you're saying right now, kiddo--”

“ _ You're _ **_not him!_ ** ”

The soft hiss of his words quickly rises to a scream, and Sans kicks out, his foot connecting square with Papyrus’ ribcage.

“ _ Ow! Dammit, _ Sans, I--!”

“ _ You can't lie to me! _ ” Sans shrieks, hands moving to claw at his bare neck. “ _ Don't treat me like I wouldn't recognize my  _ **_own brother!_ ** _ Let me -- let me  _ **_see him!!_ ** ”

As he screeches, Sans doesn’t notice Papyrus’ eyes first fix on the hands around his neck, then suddenly widen in realization.

“Alphys, wait -- wait here and watch him, and make sure he doesn't do anything,” Papyrus orders, still clutching at his ribs as he stands up.

“What the hell is going on?!” Alphys demands over Sans’ frantic screaming.

“Damn if I know, but I've got an idea. I have to find something. Just make sure he doesn't hurt himself.  _ Please. _ ”

Sans doesn't hear any of Papyrus’ and Alphys’ exchange, but his voice slowly dies out as Papyrus retreats from the living room, out of sight.

“ _... come… come back, _ ” he murmurs hoarsely, bones still rattling quietly. “ _... c-come… back…! _ ”

He tentatively puts his feet on the ground, struggling to stand back up--

“You sit your ass back  _ down _ ,” Alphys growls, and she's by Sans’ side in an instant, putting a hand on his sternum and pushing him back down onto the couch.

“ _ Let me go, _ ” Sans seethes, but he can't squirm away from Alphys. “ _ Let me go! _ ”

“Quit  _ squirming, _ you little brat!” the lizard grunts, sitting on the couch and pinning Sans to the couch. “Or at least start talking like normal again, I  _ know _ you know how!”

“ _ Where is my brother?! Where is he?! Let me go, let me  _ **_go--!_ ** ”

All at once, he freezes against Alphys’ strong hold, prompting her to look up.

Papyrus comes over to Sans, and carefully drops his now-dry clothes into the smaller skeleton’s lap. Sans looks down at the wrinkled mess in his lap, then shakily reaches out with one hand, weakly pushing the clothes apart.

He curls his fingers into the red scarf, and pulls it back into his hoodie, rubbing the worn material between his bony fingers.

Even after being put through the dryer, it still fairly smells like bones.

“... Pa… Papyrus…”

Sans can't stop the sob from bubbling up from his throat as he slumps back against the couch. Then another follows, coupled with the first few tears he's been bottling up. Soon, they're streaming down his face, falling into the red scarf as his body wracks from the force of his sobbing.

“I'm sorry,” he bawls, not even realizing that Alphys has let him go. “I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm  _ sorry… _ ”

Alphys slowly pushes herself off the couch, not looking away from Sans as she moves to stand by Papyrus.

“Still think he did this on purpose?” Papyrus mutters quietly, one hand gingerly placed over his ribs where Sans had kicked him.

Alphys snorts softly, but even her scowl has lost its sharp edge as she looks upon Sans.

* * *

_ papyrus… i… _

He’s stopped crying, and has finally changed back into his own clothes, but Sans stays curled on the couch, silently rubbing the red scarf in between his fingers.

_ i couldn’t… fix it this time, _ he breathes, the air catching in his throat on a repressed sob.  _ i’m sorry, i… i’m sorry… _

“Hey, kiddo. How you doing?”

His eyes flick up to meet Papyrus’ face, and Sans sees the creases along the other skeleton’s eyesockets.

“...better, I guess,” he replies, voice hoarse. “...hard to be worse, at least.”

“Mm. Is it alright if I sit here with you?”

Sans glances at the empty end of the couch, then pulls his legs in a little closer.

“Your house,” he mumbles, looking back down at the scarf in his hands. “...you can do what you want.”

Papyrus sighs quietly, but takes up the space Sans made, sinking into the couch with an ease of familiarity.

After a few long moments of silence, Sans sits up a little straighter, putting the scarf in his lap but not yet looking away from it.

“I’m, uh… I’m guessing that scarf belongs to your brother, then.”

His breath catches briefly once more, but he doesn’t look away, instead curling his fists over his legs.

“...yeah,” Sans nods, only able to force out the single word at first. “It was,  _ is, _ uh… part of his… his costume.”

_ please don’t ask, please, i can’t relive it again right now,  _ **_please…_ **

“Heh… my, uh, my bro, he… wears one kinda like that, too,” Papyrus chuckles, rubbing the back of his head briefly. “Except it’s blue, instead of, uh, red. Part of his ‘battle body,’ he likes to call it.”

Despite himself, Sans feels the corners of his mouth twitching upward into a weak smile.

“Heh… Pap calls it that too.”

Silence settles over them again, and Sans pulls his legs up onto the couch, sitting cross-legged on the sofa.

“...Alphys is right about me, you know,” he mutters quietly, turning his head away from Papyrus. “If it weren’t for me, you… you’d still have  _ your _ brother, at least, and… and none of this would be--”

“Sans… stop.’

He can’t bring himself to look at Papyrus, but the words die before they can pass through his teeth.

“You didn’t do this on purpose,” the taller skeleton says, sighing as he rubs the exhaustion from his right eye. “Whatever it did… you didn’t mean to end up here. You didn’t… if you  _ are _ responsible for my brother’s disappearance, you didn’t mean for it to happen. So please, stop…”

He struggles to find the right words for a few moments, but stops.

Sans’ shoulders are shaking.

“Sans…? What is it, kiddo?”

“... why…”

The fresh wave of tears he’d been bottling up finally break free, and they trickle down his face, falling onto his hands and the scarf.

“... why are you being… so nice to me…?” Sans hiccups, still looking away. “I don’t… if… if you knew what I did, you wouldn’t…”

He feels the shift of Papyrus scooching closer, close enough for the other skeleton to cautiously put a hand on his back. Close enough to feel his magic gently humming from his bones.

He doesn’t want to, but Sans feels compelled to look up at Papyrus now with his tear-stained face.

“Look, kiddo… I’ll be honest,” the taller skeleton says, voice low and soothing as he strokes Sans’ back. “I just want to help you get back home. Besides, even if you  _ did _ do this on purpose -- and I don’t believe for a moment that you did -- I’m, uh… I’m not so good at holding a grudge, heh. So…”

Papyrus trails off with a soft chuckle, even as Sans stares up at him with a pained expression.

He eventually looks down, hands grabbing tightly at the scarf in his lap.

“Sans…?’

“...you’re… not my brother,” Sans croaks weakly, shaking as the words start spilling out. “But you… you feel so much like him right now, and I… I…”

He trails off, losing track of his thought.

“...do you want me to go away--?”

“ _ No! _ ”

Even Sans is caught off-guard by his sudden outburst, but he immediately looks up at Papyrus, eyes wide.

“...n-no,” he repeats, much softer as he shakes his head. “I… I know you’re not… not him, but… you feel like him, and I… I just…”

Sans swallows, feeling his stomach tie himself up in knots as he asks:

“...will you… keep me company until… I fall asleep…?”

Papyrus doesn’t say anything, but after a moment, he slides his arm to loop softly around Sans’ shoulders, gently pulling him in close.

It’s not the hum of his brother’s magic, but Sans can’t help but relax softly against him anyway.

“Get some rest, Sans,” Papyrus murmurs softly, rubbing his hand gently over Sans’ upper arm. “I’ll be here as long as you need me.”

Despite the tears still quietly trickling down his face, his stomach slowly unties itself as exhaustion finally claims Sans, pulling him into the world of sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sans is speaking in Wingdings! Yes, I do know there's a font option for it, but I decided against using it for stylistic/convenience reasons -- either I'd have to re-translate it down here and ruin the flow of the story, or the system would convert the text to all-caps, which is so very not Sans.


	9. Desperation

“Wow, Sans, you really  _ are _ a natural at this.”

Sans can’t help but puff out his chest a little in pride as he rematerializes beside Papyrus with barely even a sway to his landing.

“Just had to figure out the secret, is all,” he answers, trying to sound nonchalant as he looks up at Papyrus. “Magic seems to work a little different here than it does in my world, so I just needed to figure out how… I, uh, couldn’t have done it without you, heh.”

“I didn’t really do much, kiddo,” Papyrus shrugs, but the smile creeps onto his face regardless. “Literally, I think all I did was hold your hand. It’s one of the few times I can say that and  _ mean _ it literally, too, heh.”

Sans joins Papyrus in his soft chuckle, but they’re both interrupted by the buzz of a phone going off in Papyrus’ pocket.

“Oh, sorry ‘bout that,” the taller skeleton apologizes, fumbling to pull out his phone. “Oh, it’s Undyne -- gotta take it. Maybe she’s got good news for us!”

With that, Papyrus answers the call, stepping away to speak privately with Undyne. Sans takes this moment to approach the river’s edge, looking down at his reflection in the water.

He’d hoped to pick up his knack for magic faster than it ended up taking -- ten days he’s been here already, and every one of them longer than any timeline Sans has suffered through until now. But between recovering from his little  _ outburst _ and both his and Papyrus’ combined laziness, he supposes he should be surprised that it’s only taken him ten days.

And besides… Sans can’t deny that Papyrus has been better company than he thought over these last few days.

**_better be careful, sans. you don’t want to get attached if you’re planning on leaving, do you? ...or have you decided to change your mind?_ **

Sans’ smile tightens, just a bit.

_ don’t worry, _ he answers the now-familiar voice in his head, reluctant in how casual he’s become with it.  _...i’m still not sticking around. _

**_that’s what i thought._ **

“Sorry ‘bout that, kiddo.”

Sans quickly looks over, grateful for the distraction of Papyrus approaching, shoving his phone back into his pocket; he sees the frown on the other skeleton’s face, though, and feels his own expression start to fall as well.

“That’s, uh, not a very excited look you’ve got there,” he points out, hands shoved into his own hoodie pockets.

“...Undyne’s… having problems tracking your timeline,” Papyrus admits, rubbing his skull. “She’s not giving up yet, but… she said if she doesn’t get anything in the next couple days, she’s gonna have to try something different. We may have to go back to the lab.”

“A couple  _ days? _ ” Sans repeats, and he can’t keep the tone of disbelief out of his voice.

“Yeah, I know, I told her you were in a hurry too,” Papyrus assures, holding his hands up placatingly. “But she said she needs the time to be sure. Apparently she’s been doing a more thorough scan than usual, or something. And even if she wasn’t, I’m just the messenger, alright?”

A disgruntled sigh still escapes Sans as he looks back out across the river, browbones furrowed.

“You gonna be alright with maybe having to spend a little longer here, kiddo?” the lanky skeleton asks, after a few moments’ pause. “I know it’s not what you want, but…”

For a little longer, Sans is silent, and he closes his eyes in thought.

_ a few  _ **_days?_ ** _ haven’t i already waited long enough? _ he asks himself, grinding his teeth slightly.  _ what has she been  _ **_doing_ ** _ while i’ve been out here, working my ass off…? _

**_it’s not like it matters what she’s been doing, is it? you’ve been training, after all._ **

There’s a certainty in the voice’s words that makes Sans pause.

_...just because i’ve been working on my magic doesn’t mean i’m not still lazy, though. i shouldn’t  _ **_have_ ** _ to go through with this plan. _

**_true. but you’re back to peak condition, aren’t you? you should be strong enough now. after all… all you need is one. six would be nice, but all you need is one._ **

“...Sans…?”

Sans opens his eyes, and fixes Papyrus with one of his easy false smiles.

“I’ll be fine,” he assures. “Just, uh, just ask Undyne to keep trying, alright? This world’s not... not  _ so _ bad, but, well, y’know…”

“...But it’s not home for you.”

The corners of his mouth turn downward just a bit as Papyrus fixes him with a knowing expression.

“...yeah,” Sans nods, a little quieter than he had been. “...it’s not home.”

He doesn’t pull away as Papyrus puts a comforting hand on his shoulder; the gesture has become familiar to him by now, and even though it’s not his brother’s magic, Sans has given up denying that the feeling is somewhat soothing.

“C’mon, kiddo. You wanna go to Muffet’s?” Papyrus suggests, offering a small smile. “My treat, as usual, heh.”

“...yeah, sure,” Sans agrees, forcing his smile to widen, just a bit. “...I could go for something to eat.”

“Heh, same. Well, what are we waiting for, then? C’mon, kiddo, let’s get a move on before our seat gets taken.”

Sans chuckles, and follows alongside Papyrus as they walk back into town.

He thinks of the voice in his head, and feels the now-familiar rush of determination filling his bones.

* * *

It isn’t until late at night that Sans finally teleports out of the house, landing with a soft  _ ffmph _ in the deep snow near the garage.

He didn’t expect Papyrus to stay up so late talking to him, but in fairness, Sans hadn’t exactly tried to dissuade him from conversation this time. For all his urgency to get back home, even he couldn’t deny that maybe, even if just a little bit… he might miss this Papyrus’ company when he gets back.

**_not enough to want to stay here, though, i should hope._ **

_ of course not, don’t be stupid, _ Sans chides the voice in his head as he marches through the snow towards Waterfall.  _ as if anything could be more important to me than getting my brother back. _

**_good._ **

Sans silently marches forward, kicking the snow out of his path as he presses on.

He’s far more confident in his magic than he’d been even just a few days ago, that much is true; still, he can’t quite push all the nervousness out of his gut. Standing up to a human to prevent absolute genocide, that was one thing; he’s very familiar with taking on responsibility when there was literally nobody else to do it. Taking initiative, however --

_ this is all for papyrus, _ he reminds himself, steeling his nerves to convince himself to press on through the fog.  _ even if nobody else forgives me, it doesn’t matter, as long as i have-- _

“I had a feeling you’d be out here, Sans.”

He chokes, stumbling as he sees a now-familiar silhouette in the fog.

“P-Papyrus--?!”

“Sneaking out in the middle of the night? Must be somewhere important you’re trying to go, kiddo,” Papyrus greets, nonchalant as he pulls out his pack of cigarettes. “Where you headed, huh?”

Every second he fumbles for an answer, he knows what he finally says will sound fake, but Sans can’t find anything at all.

_ what is he doing here  _ **_why is he here_ **

“J-Just, uh… just… going for a late-night stroll to Waterfall, th-that’s all,” he finally stutters, forcing an awkward little laugh at the end of his words. “I mean, it’s, uh, such a nice night out, and--”

“And you’re doing a fine job of lying badly, Sans.”

He hears the flick of a lighter, then the sound of Papyrus breathing out a mouthful of smoke.

“You’re up to something, aren’t you, kiddo?” the taller skeleton asks, taking small puffs of his cigarette. “I’m not gonna lie -- I bought the line about you wanting to get familiar with this world’s magic. Probably shouldn’t have, but I did. But I know you’ve been eager to get back home… so when you didn’t pitch a fit about Undyne needing more time, something didn’t sit right with me. I’m not  _ that _ clueless. Tell me what’s really going on, Sans.”

**_he’s going to try and stop you._ **

Sans straightens his back a bit as the voice whispers the fear that he’s been trying to avoid all day.

“...I’m just… going to have some words with someone,” he finally answers.

“ _ Who? _ ” Papyrus demands, and the softness in his voice is gone.

A scowl briefly flashes over Sans’ face.

_ no point in lying now. _

“...the queen.”

“ _ Toriel? _ What the hell kind of business do you have with  _ Toriel? _ ” Papyrus asks, disbelieving. “What, you really think  _ she’s _ gonna be able to help you get back home? Hate to break it to you, kiddo, but she’s got bigger worries on her plate.”

“Oh no, I don’t need  _ her, _ ” Sans clarifies with a dismissive handwave. “I just need to…  _ borrow _ something she’s got. Something nobody else has.”

Sans could cut the silence with a knife if he had one, but it isn’t long before the other shoe finally drops.

“... the… the souls…? Do you… Are you talking about the  _ souls? _ ” Papyrus asks, and Sans can already envision his eyes widening. “Sans, what are you--”

“Re- _ lax _ , Papyrus. I’m not gonna take ‘em  _ all, _ ” Sans interrupts. “I just need to borrow one. That’s all. Just one little soul… I promise I’ll give it back, if I can. Time travel’s tricky business, y’know.”

_ not that i’m gonna look very hard for a way back. _

**_not that you shouldn’t take them all if you get the chance._ **

“Yeah? How’d you plan on convincing her, then?” Papyrus demands, after burning through the rest of his cigarette in one long breath. “I can tell you know, she’s  _ not _ gonna give up those souls without a fight, kiddo. And Toriel won’t go down easy.”

Sans doesn’t feel as nervous as he thinks he should.

“Well, if it comes down to that, then I guess we’ll be…”

“ _ No. _ ”

He hears Papyrus shifting his stance in the snow.

“I’m not gonna let you do that, kiddo,” Papyrus growls, his eye flashing orange through the fog and the dark. “I’m not gonna let you walk straight into your death. Make this easy for both of us and just go back to the house, Sans.”

Sans feels something hard in his heart, unfamiliar yet comfortable all at once, and releases his tension with a heavy sigh as he rubs his temple.

“Papyrus… I’m gonna fill you in on a secret, here,” he begins, casual as he can manage. “I only, uh. really care about one thing, and that’s… well, that’s getting back to where I belong.”

_ getting to my brother. _

“So, if you could just get outta my way and let me do this, well… I think it’ll be easier on both of us.”

“I can’t… I can’t do that, Sans. Not in good conscience.  _ Go home. _ ”

“...go home, huh...?”

Sans can’t help let out a hollow laugh that goes on just a little too long.

“Papyrus. Pal.  _ Buddy, _ ” he finally says, the laugh lingering in his words. “ _ That’s what I’m trying to do. _ You’re normally pretty cool, and I can’t really say I wanna hurt you -- but, well, right now, all you are…”

He doesn’t even blink as a row of Gaster Blasters materialize behind him, all pointed at Papyrus.

“...is  _ in my way. _ ”

Papyrus is silent, save for the sharp click of him lighting up another cigarette.

“...so that’s how you’re gonna be, huh, kiddo?”

“I don’t wanna fight you, Papyrus,” Sans admits, but there’s a hard, emotionless edge to his voice that’s never been there before. “But either stop me, or  _ get out of my way. _ ”

“ _ I’m not letting you do this, Sans. _ ”

Sans shrugs.

“Then stand still so I can make this quick,” he growls, and the blasters activate, aiming for Papyrus’ exact spot all at once.

Papyrus quickly sidesteps the blasters’ focused attack, and with a quick throwing gesture, summons a wave of bones towards Sans, flying at high speed. Sans stays rooted in his spot, and the bones bury themselves into the ground around him, vanishing shortly thereafter.

“If you’re going to stop me, then  _ stop me! _ ” he shouts, more irritated than afraid at Papyrus’ attempt at a fakeout. “Or are you telling me you need me to show you how it’s done?”

“I don’t  _ want _ to fight you, Sans!”

“Well,  _ too bad! _ If you won’t let me pass, then  _ you don’t have a choice! _ ”

Before Papyrus can move again, Sans jerks his left hand towards the ground, eye flashing blue; Papyrus collapses to the ground, but barely manages to push himself up before a wall of bones explodes out of the ground underneath him.

“Damnit, Sans,  _ stop it--! _ ”

Sans grabs hold of Papyrus’ soul once more, holding him in place until his own bone attack materializes, and only lets go as soon as the attack is too close for Papyrus to dodge all of them.

_ i don’t want to do this, _ he curses himself, not able to watch as Papyrus takes the brunt of his attack.  _ this wasn’t supposed to happen…! _

**_just keep attacking. he can’t dodge forever._ **

_ that’s not the  _ **_point!_ ** _ he’s not supposed to have to  _ **_dodge at all!_ ** _ why are we even fighting?! why is he  _ **_here?!?_ **

Sans doesn’t even look to see whether Papyrus is still dodging his attack, and just throws his soul as far back as he can, into the trees.

**_my, my. are you losing determination? now, when he’s all that stands in your way?_ **

_ stop it, _ Sans finds himself growling, clutching at his head with his right hand as his eye flashes wildly.  _ stop it! _

**_funny, I thought you were willing to do_ ** **_anything_ ** **_for your brother… after all, you’ve already killed once for him, haven’t you? and someone who you’d once considered a friend…_ **

_ no, that wasn’t, that -- that wasn’t -- i-- _

Sans staggers, now clawing his face with both hands as he shakes his head.

**_what’s the dust of a monster you barely know matter to you?_ **

_ shut up shut  _ **_up shut UP_ **

“Sans--?”

He looks up, and immediately backs away from Papyrus standing in front of him, battered but still very much alive.

“ _ Go away, Papyrus! _ ” he screams from behind the hands covering the lower half of his face. “I, don’t -- don’t make me do this,  _ please don’t make me do this--! _ ”

“Sans, I -- I don’t want to fight you either, okay?” Papyrus murmurs as soothingly as he can, hands half-raised placatingly as he carefully approaches Sans. “I  _ don’t. _ I  _ won’t. _ Just  _ tell me why you’re doing this. _ ”

“ _ You wouldn’t understand! _ You  _ can’t understand! _ I don’t --  _ I don’t have a choice, _ Papyrus, I  _ have _ to do this! So just -- just  _ get out of my way _ and  _ let me go! _ ”

“ _ No, _ ” Papyrus shakes his head, his hand barely making contact with Sans as he rests it on the other’s shoulder. “I already  _ told _ you, Sans, I’m  _ not _ letting you march to your death. This  _ isn’t worth your life. _ ”

Sans’ eyes flick rapidly back and forth between Papyrus’ face and the hand on his shoulder, but he quickly pushes it away, backing away, still shaking.

_ no no i can’t do this i can’t i  _ **_can’t_ **

**_you can and you will. what are you worth if you can’t even save your own brother?_ **

A strangled sob escapes Sans, and his bones rattle from a chill in his soul.

“You… you _ don’t understand, _ ” he chokes, hands clenched into shaking fists. “My life is  _ worthless _ without my brother, and--”

“Sans, that’s  _ not-- _ ”

“ _ And you don’t know what I’ve done to try and bring him back. _ ”

Papyrus freezes at the hollow expression in Sans’ eyes.

“...Sans…?”

**_now’s your chance._ ** **_end this._ **

_ i… i don’t… _

**_you don’t have a_ ** **_choice._ **

“...let me pass, Papyrus,” Sans croaks, materializing a single bone in his left hand. “...there’s already blood on my hands. What… what’s a little dust, too?”

He staggers forward, and despite the weak swing he makes towards Papyrus, the taller skeleton finds himself compelled to back up.

“Sans,  _ stop it, _ ” he growls, but he can’t keep the alarm out of his voice. “This -- this  _ isn’t funny. _ ”

“Who’s laughing?” Sans chuckles, voice cracking as he swings a little harder this time. “ _ I’m _ not laughing. Are you…?”

His foot slips on a hidden patch of ice, and Sans stumbles. He doesn’t fall, but Papyrus darts back in, grabbing Sans’ wrists and holding his hands above his head.

“You  _ have to stop, Sans, _ ” Papyrus pleads as Sans looks up at him with lifeless eyes. “You’re not -- this  _ isn’t you. _ Just  _ let me help you. _ ”

“The only way you can help,” Sans answers, his words empty, “is if you _get out of my way_ so I _don’t have to kill you._ _Let. Me. Go._ ”

“ _ No, Sans! _ ” Papyrus shakes his head, crouching down into the snow to look Sans in the eye. “I  _ told you, _ I’m not letting you  _ do this! _ There  _ has _ to be another way, and I’m not going to let you waltz right to your death before we find it!  _ Why _ don’t you  _ understand that?! _ ”

Sans’ legs shake as he tries to keep standing, unable to tear away his gaze from Papyrus’. But for how hard the other skeleton tries to reach him, the words fall on him like rain in a chasm -- an emotional drop in the void where Sans’ soul once felt.

_ … i… i can’t… do this. _

“...Papyrus.”

The taller skeleton sees the flicker of an emotion he can’t recognize crossing Sans’ face.

“...you… don’t understand what I’ve lost,” Sans continues, his words as hollow as his eyesockets. “...you don’t understand that I have  _ nothing left _ to lose. If… if you don’t let me go… then I’m gonna have to do something… drastic.”

“And _you_ don’t understand that _I’m not letting you_ go into a fight you _can’t_ _win,_ ” Papyrus answers. tightening his hold on Sans’ wrists. “Sans, please. _Look_ at me. _Look at me._ ”

Against his stronger inclinations, Sans forces himself to focus on Papyrus’ pleading expression.

“I can  _ help you, _ ” Papyrus promises earnestly. “But you have to  _ let me _ help you.  _ Please, _ Sans. That’s  _ all _ I’m asking for.”

**_big promises for someone who can’t understand._ **

Sans lets a tired chuckle escape him as he shakes his head.

“...you can’t help me, Papyrus,” he says, dropping the bone from out of his hand. “ _ Nobody _ can help me. So if you won’t let me go… then there’s only one thing… I  _ can _ do to get out.”

“...Sans, what… what are you talking about?”

He can almost feel the fear in Papyrus’ voice, but just closes his eyes in response.

“Let me go, Papyrus,” he says, exhausted.

“No.”

“ _ Please let me go. _ ”

“ _ No, _ Sans, I’m not -- I’m not letting you go anywhere--”

Papyrus’ words are interrupted by a soft, tired laugh.

“...then… I told you.”

Sans’ left eye flashes blue behind the closed lid, and the sound of Papyrus’ strangled choke isn’t quite covered by the sound of his own bone attack erupting from the ground around him and piercing through his chest.

“ **_Sans!!_ ** ”

“...told you… getting out,” Sans wheezes, even as he slowly collapses into the snow face-first. “...Papyrus, I’m… finally coming, heh…”

The sound of Papyrus’ panicked yelling and the feel of his hands on Sans’ bones fades away into a now-blissfully welcome darkness as Sans lets go of consciousness.


	10. Regrets

“BROTHER, GOOD MORNING! I DID NOT EXPECT YOU TO BE UP SO EARLY!”

Sans chuckles, twirling some more of his brother's leftover spaghetti onto his fork before shoveling it into his mouth. 

“Of course I'm gonna be up early,” he jokes, offering some of his food to Papyrus. “Can't pass up the opportunity to spend time with my favorite brother, after all.”

Papyrus cackles gleefully, and turns down his brother's offer, instead fetching his own helping of spaghetti from the fridge. As he slams the door shut, he joins Sans by the counter, grabbing a fork out of the drawer.

“IT'S NICE TO SPEND TIME WITH YOU TOO, SANS!” Papyrus agrees with his brother's sentiment, slurping up spaghetti noodles through his teeth. “AND YET, I CANNOT SHAKE THE FEELING THAT YOU ARE AWAKE THIS EARLY FOR OTHER REASONS… MAYBE LESS THAN HAPPY REASONS.”

Sans pauses, then looks down into his tupperware, the corners of his smile slipping downward, just a bit. 

“Heh… can't ever hide anything from you, bro.”

Papyrus stops eating, and turns his head to look at his brother with a puzzled expression. 

“Truth be told, Pap, I… had a pretty awful nightmare last night,” Sans admits, and despite his attempt at nonchalance, his voice softens, just a bit. 

“OH…? IT MUST HAVE BEEN PRETTY BAD, IF YOU'RE TELLING ME ABOUT IT.”

“I… yeah. Pretty… pretty bad.”

He doesn't realize his hands are shaking until Papyrus has taken hold of one of them, squeezing gently. 

“SANS… ?”

“You… you were gone, gone somewhere so far that I… I couldn't reach you,” Sans trembles, his voice increasingly unstable. “And when I finally found a way to bring you home, I… I got taken somewhere where I could still never see you again. And, and I…”

“SANS…”

“It  _ hurt, _ Pap,” he finally sobs, clawing at the dull ache in his chest. “It  _ hurt, _ worse than anything I've ever felt, but… but I  _ couldn't get out _ . And I thought that I'd, I'd never get to see you again… I couldn't -- I couldn't  _ live with it, _ bro, so I, I--”

The dull ache in Sans’ chest sharpens, and he slides down the cabinet, head in his hands as tears stream down his face. Papyrus sets down his tupperware on the counter before joining his brother on the floor, and he carefully pulls Sans into a tight hug, resting the other’s head against his chest armor.

“It still hurts, Pap,” Sans chokes out, desperately returning the hug. “It… it felt so  _ real, _ and it’s -- I’m scared  _ this _ is the dream, and I don’t, I don’t wanna wake up, I -- I don’t want to lose you again, bro, I  _ can’t _ lose you again…!”

He feels the gentle touch of his brother’s hand rubbing his spine soothingly, and though the pain in his chest grows, Sans lets himself softly relax in Papyrus’ hold.

“SANS… I’M NOT GOING TO GO ANYWHERE, OKAY?” Papyrus assures, his voice as soft as he can bring it. “I PROMISE. BUT, BROTHER… I THINK IT MAY BE TIME FOR… FOR YOU TO WAKE UP.”

Sans’ breath catches in his chest, and he looks up at Papyrus, eyesockets hollow.

Papyrus is smiling, but Sans can see the pain gently pressed over his brother’s expression.

“Wh… what do you…?”

“YOU NEED TO WAKE UP NOW, BROTHER,” Papyrus repeats, gently, still holding Sans close. “I’LL STILL BE HERE, BUT NOW…”

“...n-no, this -- P-Pap, I  _ am _ awake, this, this is  _ real, this can’t be the dream _ ‘cause you,  _ you’re here-- _ ”

Papyrus shifts his hands to place them both on his brother’s shoulders, meeting Sans’ panic with patience.

“I LOVE YOU, BROTHER,” he smiles. “I’LL BE WAITING FOR YOU TO COME BACK, OKAY?”

“No,  _ no,  _ **_Papyrus--!_ ** ”

Sans’ eyes open slowly, like lifting a heavy weight from his lids.

It takes a few moments for his vision to acclimate to the darkness of the room, whose sole source of light seems to come from the curtained window above the mattress he’s lying on. The smell of cigarette smoke, dirty socks, and stale food surrounds him, and he softly scrunches his face until the stench becomes somewhat tolerable.

He can still feel his brother's hands on his shoulders, and see the bright, almost permanent smile on his face. 

“P… Papyrus…”

Sans’ voice is little more than a dry rasp, and his arm feels like lead as he tries to move his hand to his neck. 

The sharp pain in his chest from his dream is little more than a dull throb now, but undeniably there. 

_ … what happened…? where am i…? _

The door creaks open, and Sans squints as light from the hall spills into the room onto him. 

“...oh, thank  _ god, _ you're… you're awake.”

His vision finally comes back into focus as Papyrus approaches, sitting on the ground beside the mattress Sans is resting on. 

Sans pulls a face as the reek of cigarettes hits him like a brick to the gut. 

“How… how do you feel, kiddo?” he asks, forcing his voice to stay steady as he tightly holds his mug of coffee. 

“...hurts,” Sans forces out, closing his eyes once more. “...chest hurts. Throat.”

“Here… you want some…?”

Despite his pain, he weakly pushes away the drink offered to him by Papyrus.

“Don't want it,” he rasps. “...don't want anything.”

“Kid, you… you've been, been out for… a while. You should have something, even if it's just a drink…”

Something about the shiver in Papyrus’ voice makes Sans freeze, just for a moment. 

“Just… take it,” the taller skeleton pleads, gently pressing the mug into Sans’ hand.  “Please, Sans.  _ Please. _ ”

He pauses for a moment, but eventually, Sans’ fingers curl around the mug, taking it from Papyrus and taking a small sip. 

The coffee slides down his throat like liquid tar, and he can only manage the one sip before he puts the cup down on the floor. But it does soothe the dryness in his throat, at least a little, and he lets out a small sigh before folding his hands over his ribs.

His chest throbs dully in pain, yet Sans doesn’t feel the gaping wound he realizes he’s vaguely expecting to be there.

“... why am I…?”

“S-Sorry, I… my, uh, my healing magic’s… not really that great,” Papyrus chuckles, but it’s hollow except for an undercurrent of something Sans can’t quite pin down. “I-I mean, it’s, well, it’s enough to… to get the job done, but I couldn’t… c-couldn’t…”

He hears the soft rattle of bones, and looks over just enough to see Papyrus rubbing his face, eyes squeezed tightly shut. 

“ _ Why, _ Sans?” he finally croaks, shaking. “I… I've tried asking myself why, why you'd do something like that, but I don't -- I don't understand. I… I don't…  _ why? _ ”

Sans looks away, clenching his stomach as much as his frail body will let him. 

“Doesn't matter anymore,” he mutters, quietly as he can manage. 

“Doesn't --  _ dammit _ , Sans, it  _ does matter! _ ” Papyrus cries out, slamming his fists onto his femurs. “When you  _ did _ that, I -- I held you in the snow for an  _ hour, _ pouring magic into you until you finally stopped eroding in my arms! And the whole time, all I could think was that, that -- that I couldn't let you die before you got home, before you got to see your brother, and that --  _ why did you give up? _ ”

Sans can't keep his tears bottled up anymore, and they leak out from behind closed lids. 

“...you don't understand,” he shakes his head, slowly. “You  _ don't understand. _ ”

“Then  _ help _ me understand, Sans!  _ Tell me _ why I don't understand, tell me  _ why you did that! _ ”

Instead, Sans quietly rolls over, away from Papyrus, only letting out a soft grunt of pain as he puts pressure on his aching ribs. 

“You wasted your time,” he mutters, curling up. “If I'm not strong enough to go home… then there's no point in trying. There's  _ no point _ .”

“Don't…. Stop  _ saying _ things like that,” Papyrus begs, putting a hand on Sans’ shoulder. “There  _ has  _ to be a way back. When you're recovered, we can go back to the lab, and Undyne, she -- she'll help us try another way to get you--”

“So she couldn't do it.”

There's no inflection to Sans’ voice this time. 

“... n… no,” Papyrus stutters in response, almost withdrawing his hand. “Sh… she couldn't… find anything. But she--”

“Because there's  _ no way back _ ,” Sans interrupts. “I'm  _ stuck here _ . This world, it--”

“Sans--”

“It's my  _ punishment _ for my sins. After everything I did for my brother… everything I was  _ willing _ to do…”

His voice softens to barely above a whisper. 

“...it'd make sense that I'd never get to see him again.”

He can feel Papyrus tighten his soft hold on his shoulder, and hears him fumbling for the right thing to say. 

“I want to be alone,” Sans mutters, pulling away from the other's touch. 

“Sans, please--”

“ _ I want. To be. Alone. _ ”

There's a moment of tense silence before Papyrus finally pushes himself back to his feet. Even as he walks to the door, Sans can feel the taller skeleton’s eyes linger on him the whole time. 

“If you need anything,” Papyrus says quietly, hand on the doorknob, “just… let me know.”

Sans is silent as Papyrus closes the door.

After a moment, he can hear the soft thud and slide of the other skeleton leaning into the door and slowly lowering himself to the ground.

Papyrus’ low sobs mask Sans’ own, and the smaller skeleton pulls his knees into his chest, ignoring his physical pain. 


	11. Saudade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saudade [...] is a deep emotional state of nostalgic or profound melancholic longing for an absent something or someone that one loves. Moreover, it often carries a repressed knowledge that the object of longing might never return. A stronger form of saudade might be felt towards people and things whose whereabouts are unknown, such as a lost lover, or a family member who has gone missing, moved away, separated, or died.

“Dark days behind us, hmm hm hm…”

Papyrus tightens his soft grip on Sans’ shoulder, as though it will stop him from successfully slipping away once more. But Sans is silent and unmoving, staring blankly forward as they drift gently down the river from Waterfall to Snowdin, his clothes still dripping wet from his latest attempt at “ _escape._ ”

Papyrus is still thanking the stars that Alphys had been on patrol today.

“Sans… I -- I still don’t understand,” he mutters, just barely audible over the quiet rushing of the river. “Please… why…? Why won’t you tell me what I can do to help? Wh -- why won’t you tell me why I _can’t_ help?”

Sans doesn’t move, but Papyrus feels a small surge of magic from the smaller skeleton, and panics that he will vanish again -- this time, somewhere so far Papyrus won’t find him in time. But the surge dissipates, and Sans is still in the boat, silent and unmoving as usual.

It’s nothing to be relieved about, but Papyrus can’t stop the feeling from washing over him all the same.

“Hmm hm hm… dark days ahead of us, too,” the riverperson hums lightly, calm as describing the weather.

 _Thanks, I could have anticipated that myself,_ Papyrus finds himself grumbling before shaking his head to loosen the thought from his mind.

It’s hard enough holding onto hope for both him and Sans as it is without acknowledging the senseless ramblings of--

“But perhaps… I might face them, so long as I’m not alone. Hmm hm hm.”

Papyrus opens his mouth, ready to ask the riverperson to maybe keep their thoughts to themself for once, but freezes as he hears the low hiss of air passing through Sans’ teeth, and feels the smaller skeleton shudder softly.

“Sans…?”

Sans doesn’t respond, but Papyrus feels something akin to a low-grade shiver run through his body. Not quite enough to cause Sans’ bones to rattle, but enough to be felt. Enough to be more than the nothing of the past few days.

Papyrus doesn’t push him any further, but gently tightens his hold on Sans’ shoulder.

* * *

It’s a slower trip than usual today, but the ferry finally arrives at Snowdin, coming to a gentle stop at the pier.

“Come on, kiddo,” Papyrus sighs as he stands up, taking Sans’ hand as he does so. “We made it back… time to move.”

Sans doesn’t move from the edge of the boat, his slippered feet brushing over the river’s surface.

“Sans,” Papyrus says again, a little more firmly to hide the exhaustion in his voice. “Let’s go back to the house, alright? Let’s go get some--”

In the time it takes him to blink, Sans has vanished, leaving Papyrus holding nothing but air.

“ _Shit!_ ”

He doesn’t even pause before leaping off the boat, landing on the pier with only the smallest of stumbles before he dashes towards town.

 _Please don’t have gone far,_ he begs, knowing full well he won’t get a real answer. _Please Sans, please don’t have gone far,_ **_please_ ** _be close…!_

He catches sight of Sans near Muffet’s, stumbling slowly towards the forest.

“ _There_ you are,” Papyrus sighs in relief, jogging over to where Sans is and grabbing hold of his shoulder. “Come on, let’s -- the house is this way, alright? Let’s get--”

Sans vanishes once more from out of Papyrus’ reach, leaving behind his hoodie in the other’s grasp. But Papyrus can see him at the edge of town, wandering out into the forest.

“ _Damnit_ , Sans--!”

Before Papyrus can fully close the distance between them again, Sans teleports once more -- just enough to be on the far side of the bridge, where he pauses before slowly pushing onwards, like he doesn’t even realize he’s being followed.

This isn’t the compliance that Papyrus had been hoping for… but it’s not the same sort of urgent running away that he’s gotten accustomed to over the last week.

Unable to shake the feeling that he may be doing this on purpose, Papyrus jogs to close the gap, but then follows after Sans from a safe distance, watching the way the smaller skeleton wanders through the snow and the trees. But it’s not the aimless wandering he was expecting; in fact, the way Sans navigates the traps and puzzles with such ease, it’s almost as though he knows what’s coming. Like he’s navigating traps he’s already set…

 _No,_ Papyrus frowns a bit as he watches the way Sans navigates the puzzles. It’s not like he’s set them, but… like he was there when they were set. Like he’s memorized the way they’re supposed to operate, based on how readily he moves around them.

_...how many times has he seen these traps to have them so well memorized?_

The thought pops into his mind unannounced, and Papyrus clenches his jaw as he casually steps over yet another set of spikes, watching Sans slip easily into the trees.

 _Where are you going, Sans?_ he frowns softly, following a little closer than before as he also enters the dense forest. _Why are you going back this way…?_

He can’t fully shake the idea that Sans is trying to shake him off his trail in the trees, but Papyrus never fully loses sight of Sans as they wander through the Snowdin forest, until finally Sans pops out into a clearing. Papyrus lingers in the trees a little longer, but stands close enough to the forest’s edge to see where they are.

Sans stands eerily still as he stares at the sentry station, not even so much as shivering as the cold blows over his soaking wet bones. From his spot hidden amongst the trees, Papyrus watches as Sans finally stumbles up to the station, turning to slowly slide down the front of it and into the snow.

Papyrus waits until Sans pulls his legs into his chest before finally stepping out of the trees, approaching carefully.

“...hey, kiddo,” he greets softly, like he’d only just stumbled upon Sans by chance. “Fancy, uh, fancy finding you out here.”

Sans is silent, but he doesn’t move away as Papyrus takes a seat in the snow beside him, first setting the blue hoodie onto the sentry station.

“Gotta say, I was, uh… I was wondering where you were headed this time,” the taller skeleton continues, casual as he can be. “Not many people come out this way, y’know. Makes it a good place to, well… to sit and think things out, y’know? As much as I like to gripe about having to do sentry duty… sometimes it’s nice to just… be out here where it’s quiet. Where I can be alone with my thoughts.”

He doesn’t expect an answer, and instead fishes through his pockets for his cigarettes.

“I mean, sometimes it gets a little lonely out here,” Papyrus continues, finding his smokes and pulling one out of the package. “But a little further down, there’s a huge door, and -- by itself, it’s _perfect_ for telling knock-knock jokes. But sometimes, on the other side, there’s this dude, and he’s got some pretty good jokes himself. Well, ‘good’ jokes, heh. You’d probably like ‘em…”

Sans doesn’t move from his huddled position, but as Papyrus lights his cigarette, he feels the smaller skeleton’s eyes slowly turn to fix on him out of the corner of his eyesockets.

“It’s been a while since I’ve been down here now,” Papyrus admits, taking a deep drag of his cigarette. “But, uh, last time I was here, he had some pretty good ones. Like, ‘Why did the skeleton want a friend?’ ‘’Cause he was--’”

“...’cause he was… feeling _bonely,_ heh.”

The voice is dry and raspy, and barely more than a whisper. But it’s undeniably Sans’ voice.

“...y-yeah, that’s right,” Papyrus chuckles, letting the feeling of relief wash over him as he slumps against the sentry station. “Shouldn’t be surprised you know that one, kid. But how about this one? What does a skeleton tile his roof with?”

He sees the way Sans’ face scrunches up softly, as though trying to remember, but eventually Sans shakes his head, just enough for Papyrus to see.

“ _Shin-_ gles, of course.”

A small snort escapes Sans, and Papyrus’ grin widens before he breathes out a cloud of smoke.

“Heard that one before,” Sans mutters after clearing his throat, still struggling to get his words out. “But… forgot it. Still a good one, heh.”

“You mean a bad one, right, kiddo?” Papyrus jokes.

“...heh, right. Sorry.”

For a few moments, Papyrus worries about the silence that settles back over them both, but then watches as Sans reaches back to weakly rap his knuckles on the sentry station behind him.

“Knock knock,” the smaller skeleton mumbles.

“...who’s there?”

“Dishes.”

Papyrus frowns.

“Dishes who?”

Sans cracks a weak grin as he looks up at Papyrus.

“Dishes a very bad joke,” he says, a certain note of pride slipping into his voice as he winks.

Papyrus laughs so hard, he nearly chokes on his cigarette, and has to hold it away from his mouth until he finally calms down enough to breathe again.

“Wow, kid,” he wheezes, slumping back. “I thought I knew some bad ones, but _that_ one… is a real _rib tickler._ ”

Now it’s Sans’ turn to bark out a laugh, and his arms move from holding his knees to clutching his ribs.

“Y-You, uh,” he chokes out in between his laughs, “you think that you’re pretty _humerus,_ don’t you?”

“C’mon, that one really seemed to tickle your _funny bone,_ didn’t it?”

“W-Well, I’d, uh, I’d be _fibia_ if I told you it didn’t…”

“D’you, uh, want me to _patella_ you some more, kiddo? ‘Cause I’ve got some that’ll really _stick to your ribs._ Unless you got some more good ones, then I’ll have to ask you to _socket_ to me.”

Sans has fallen over sideways into the snow as he wheezes with laughter, and even Papyrus can’t sit up straight as he grins so brightly, his jaw hurts from the gesture.

“I’ve gotta say, Sans,” he says, offering a hand to Sans as the smaller skeleton finally calms down enough to breathe again, “it’s good to hear you laugh, for once.”

Sans’ grin falls, but only a bit, and he takes Papyrus’ hand to help pull himself back out of the snow.

“... it… feels good to laugh again,” he admits, quietly, as he glances away. “...I wasn’t… really sure I could, anymore.”

Papyrus pauses before putting an arm around Sans’ shoulder; Sans tenses up for a moment, but then lets himself sink against the taller skeleton, and lets out a quiet sigh.

He can feel a calm gently pulsing through Sans that he hasn’t felt before.

“My brother… he _hates_ when I make jokes like that,” Sans mutters softly. “But once in a while, I can get him to accidentally make a bad pun, himself… he gets _so mad_ when he figures out what’s happened. It’s pretty great, heh.”

“Hah… my brother’s the same way,” Papyrus agrees, gently rubbing Sans’ upper arm. “If I manage to trick him, he’ll start throwing laundry at me… and I’ll ask him if he wants me to _clean up_ my act. He falls for it _every time._ I wish I had a recording of it on my phone.”

He feels Sans reach up for the red scarf tied around his neck.

“...I left my phone at my house,” he mumbles. “It’s got… all the pictures I ever took of me and Pap together. ...after all the timelines I went through before I wound up here, it,.. I, I didn’t… think I was gonna miss it as much as I do right now. ...but hey, it’s… not the first time I’ve screwed up like that.”

Papyrus tightens his hold on Sans, just a bit, and rests the side of his head against Sans’.

“There’s gotta be a way to get you back home, kiddo,” he murmurs softly.

Sans’ breath catches in his throat, and he shudders.

“...how can you be so sure?” he asks, voice cracking. “You didn’t even know my world existed before I wound up here… how can you be so damn sure there’s a way back, huh…?”

“Well… you got here somehow,” Papyrus answers, meeting Sans’ pain with gentle patience. “And if there’s a way for you to get here… there’s gotta be a way to get you back. We just have to find it… that’s the hard part.”

He feels Sans slump quietly against him, resting his head on Papyrus’ shoulder.

“...what if we don’t--”

“We _will_ find you a way back, kiddo,” he interrupts, pulling Sans into him. “We just gotta be patient. I promise.”

“... for… for how long?”

He breathes out heavily through his nose, and tosses his cigarette butt into the snow, away from them both.

“I don’t know, Sans,” Papyrus admits. “But I promise… I may not be your brother, but I’ll make sure you’re not alone while you’re here. Alright? You have my word.”

He feels Sans tense up against him, and wonders if maybe that wasn’t the right thing to say. But the tension soon melts, along with Sans, who pushes his face into Papyrus’ chest as the tears start to roll down his face.

“I miss him,” Sans sobs as he squirms his way into Papyrus’ lap, grabbing at the other’s orange hoodie. “I just want to see my brother again, I don’t _want_ anything else--!”

“I know, kiddo,” Papyrus murmurs soothingly, wrapping his arms around Sans to hold him close. “I know…”

Sans shudders, lets out a thick hiccup, and continues bawling into Papyrus, words failing him as he can do nothing more than curl up against the other skeleton as though he might disappear if he’s not touching him. Papyrus responds by tightening his hold on Sans, resting his chin on top of the other’s head as small, soothing sounds continue to gently escape his throat.

He doesn’t cry as long as Papyrus thought he would, but for a while after the tears stop, Sans lies quietly bundled up against the taller skeleton, his hands loosely curled into the thick orange fabric of Papyrus’ hoodie.

“Sorry,” he finally mutters, and his laugh isn’t as hollow as Papyrus is used to hearing. “Looks like I’m still useless on my own.”

“Stop saying things like that,” Papyrus scolds gently, pulling Sans closer. “Sometimes we all need a little help, is all.”

Sans lets out a quiet sigh, and finally lets himself shiver.

“...I’m… kind of cold,” he admits, pulling his legs in close to his body.

“Yeah…? You wanna head back, then, kiddo? I can carry you if you’re not up for the walk.”

Sans nods briefly, and holds on tight to Papyrus’ hoodie as the taller skeleton pushes himself up, scooping up Sans in the motion.

Papyrus knows he’ll never be Sans’ brother, but there’s something reassuring about the way Sans lets him carry him like this.

“Don’t forget your hoodie,” the taller skeleton reminds, turning so that Sans can grab the damp blue hoodie from the sentry station. “We’ll toss it in the dryer when we get back.”

“Thanks,” Sans nods weakly, reaching out and pulling his hoodie against him. “...uh, for… for everything. ...you didn’t have to do… any of it.”

Papyrus’ heart twists up in his chest, but he smiles down at Sans as he starts walking back towards Snowdin.

“Maybe not,” he agrees. “But I wanted to help you, and that… should be reason enough.”

Sans is quiet as he lays his head against Papyrus’ chest, and Papyrus wonders if maybe he should have just told Sans it was no big deal…

“...you’re not my brother, but… heh. You’re definitely Papyrus, alright.”

Papyrus’ brow furrows a bit in confusion, and he looks down to ask what he means. But Sans’ eyes are already closed, and Papyrus can see the soft, natural smile on the smaller skeleton’s face.

Papyrus lets his own smile return, and he continues onward, feeling Sans drift off to sleep in his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess what, everyone?
> 
> We've finished the first arc of the story! Which means I can make my announcement!
> 
> There have been a _lot_ of people asking about the whereabouts of US Sans in this story. This announcement is not about him per se, but about the fact that soon, I will be starting up the appendix work to _Familiar Faces_! It will be creatively titled something to the effect of "Familiar Faces: Appendix," and will contain the world-building side stories that aren't directly connected to the plot of the main story. Please keep an eye out for it when I finally stop being crushed by my work schedule long enough to start it!


	12. Distractions

It's much later than usual when Papyrus finally wakes back up, neck aching from his head being craned back for who knows  _ how  _ long this time. With a soft groan, he rubs the sleep from his eyes with one hand, the other fumbling for the remote to turn off the television.

As the screen blinks out, Papyrus sighs, dropping the hand from his face back onto his lap -- and hitting something hard resting on his leg. 

He looks down as he hears the sound of Sans whining quietly, and his vision focuses enough to make out his sleeping outline, head resting on his lap. 

Papyrus frowns softly. 

Obviously he'd dozed off, so maybe his memory is still somewhat fuzzy, but he remembers Sans being curled up on the far end of the couch, head bobbing as he drifted in and out of sleep. He definitely hadn't been lying in his lap like this when Papyrus fell asleep himself, at least. 

He kind of wants to properly go to bed, but even in the darkness, Papyrus sees the first look of peace he's seen on Sans’ face since he first woke up in this world. 

Papyrus sighs, sinking further into the couch, and absentmindedly rests a hand on Sans’ skull, closing his eyes once more. 

He feels Sans shift softly as sleep once again slowly washes over him.

* * *

The smell of fresh coffee alone is enough to finally rouse Sans from his sleep, but he pushes his face more firmly into the pillow under his head, groaning into it.

“C'mon, kiddo, rise and shine. I even made an actual breakfast for once.”

He hears the soft clunk of a mug being set on the end table, and feels a bony hand press softly on his shoulder, shaking him gently. 

Something doesn't feel quite right about the situation, but it's not wrong enough to set Sans on edge as he reluctantly pushes himself onto his elbows. Only enough to make him try and remember last night. They'd been watching television, Papyrus had fallen asleep, and then… he...

“Sorry,” Papyrus chuckles as he sees the look of realization cross Sans’ face. “I was getting hungry. Besides, that pillow’s probably a lot more comfortable than my bony old leg anyway.”

“Uh…” Sans stammers, quickly pushing himself all the way up to a sitting position before pulling his hoodie tight around him. “S-Sorry about that, I…”

“Don't worry about it, kiddo,” Papyrus waves his hand, looking away. “I didn't even notice ‘til I woke up, so obviously it was no skin off my nose. Especially since I don't have one.”

Despite himself, Sans snorts, and he sees the self-satisfied smile on the taller skeleton’s bony face.

“Hope you're okay with oatmeal, ‘cause it was all we had in the house that I felt like cooking,” Papyrus continues, even as he makes his way back to the kitchen. “I'll grab it for ya. That coffee there's yours, by the way.”

Sans blinks, then hesitantly reaches for the blue mug on the end table and peeks inside.

Instead of the black, tar-like substance he'd been expecting, the liquid inside is almost a tan color -- a little dark still, but not the pitch-black he'd been expecting. Sans wouldn't believe it was the same thing Papyrus had been making these past few weeks, but the strong, unmistakable aroma is wafting from the cup.

He hesitates, but finally takes a small sip -- and scrunches his face as the overbearing taste of straight sugar hits his tongue, nearly making him gag.

“Still no good, huh?”

Sans looks up to see Papyrus approaching, two bowls awkwardly held against his chest in one arm as his other hand carries his coffee. 

“I was gonna ask how you took your coffee,” the taller skeleton admits sheepishly as he sits down on the couch. “But you looked like you were sleeping well, so I didn't want to bother you…”

“I-It's fine,” Sans shakes his head, setting down his mug to take one of the bowls. “I just… I'm not so big on straight sugar, so… it kinda caught me off guard.”

“Gotcha. No sugar next time.”

There's something about the way Papyrus nods to himself as he says it that Sans finds almost… endearing, if he had to pick a word. It's not a term he thought he'd ever use in this world, so he quickly busies himself with his breakfast before the fluster of it popping into his mind shows itself on his face. 

“...you put honey in this, didn't you?”

“Only a little,” Papyrus replies, mock-defensively as he sips his black coffee. “Trust me, kiddo -- you got the plain version compared to what I put in mine. “

Sans chuckles as he spoons more oatmeal into his mouth, almost literally feeling the meal stick to his ribs as it slides down into his stomach.

As he eats, he misses the warm smile slowly start to fade from Papyrus’ face before he begins to eat as well. 

“So, um,” the taller skeleton begins, in between mouthfuls of oatmeal. “I was thinking that after breakfast, we should maybe… get out of the house and do something. We've kinda, well, been housebound for a couple weeks… I dunno about you, but I'm getting a little stir-crazy here, heh.”

Sans pauses, slowly looking up.

“Something… like what?” he asks, hesitant. 

“Whatever you want,” Papyrus shrugs. “I figured you'd probably want to, well, go see Undyne so we can try finding another way to get you home, but if there was anything else you wanted to do…”

Sans blinks, and slumps back a little in the couch as he realizes that this feeling washing over him is not the urgency to go home from before. 

“I…”

“Hm…?”

He swallows back the lump in his throat before looking up at Papyrus, trying to force his smile to be natural. 

“It's, uh… gonna take her a while to find a way back to my world anyway, right?” Sans asks. “If there… even  _ is _ a way back.”

“There's gotta be a way back,” Papyrus reminds softly. “But yeah… it'll probably take some time, even if she starts today. We could ask her when we--”

“N-no, let's, uh… let's… give her some time to relax. I mean, she… she deserves a break for trying, and I…”

He can't keep up the facade, and sighs, staring into his half-empty bowl. 

“...I could… use a distraction from… wanting the impossible.”

He feels Papyrus’ gaze fix on him, but Sans can't bring himself to meet his stare.

“...any place you wanna go in particular, kiddo?” the taller skeleton finally asks, and Sans can hear the softness in his voice. “We kinda took the quick and dirty tour of Waterfall already, but anywhere’s fine by me.”

He frowns thoughtfully, tapping his spoon lightly against the thin divide between his front teeth.

“...I kinda want to check out the dump,” he admits, with a half-shrug. “If I'm gonna be here for a little while… kinda want to pick up some extra clothes, y’know? No offense, but, uh, I don't wanna borrow your stuff all the time. Doesn't really fit, heh.”

“Fair enough,” Papyrus chuckles, crossing his legs. “Well, how ‘bout after we eat, we get a ride to Waterfall, then? It'll be quicker than walking, that's for sure.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Sans agrees, feeling the forced smile on his face relax. “Uh… thanks again.”

“Hm? Uh, you're welcome, kiddo,” Papyrus says, tilting his head. “Not sure what you're thanking me for, but… I'm happy to help, regardless.”

In truth, Sans isn't sure what he's thanking Papyrus for, either. And he can't quite put a finger on why going home isn't such the burning priority it had been not that long ago.

But Sans smiles regardless, and with an emotion he supposes could be called enthusiasm, he polishes off the rest of his breakfast. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nowwwww we're starting to get into the whole reason I wrote this fic, hahaha.


	13. Treading Water

“Hm? Looks like you found something cool there, kiddo.”

Sans looks up, but doesn't let go of the bulky black case he's finally gotten a decent grip on. 

“Yeah, but it's stuck, I think,” he grunts, turning his attention back to freeing the strange object from the trash heap. “Can you help me get this thing out?”

“Yeah, sure. Hang on…”

Papyrus easily scales the pile to where the object is embedded in the trash, and as Sans pulls, he digs it out, carefully moving trash out of the way, until--

“ _ Whoa--! _ ”

The garbage underfoot gives way, and Papyrus slips into Sans, knocking them both down the rough slope of trash. As they both finally skid to a stop, the black object falls on top of Papyrus, hitting him right in the floating ribs. 

“ _ Ow! _ ”

Sans grunts, dazedly groping at his own chest to make sure all his own bones are in place as Papyrus pushes himself up, cursing none too quietly as he pushes the black object away from him.

“You alright, kiddo…?”

“...yeah, I… think so,” Sans nods slowly, satisfied that nothing seems dislocated. “Didn’t expect to be attacked by garbage, heh.”

“Hope it's worth it,” the taller skeleton grumbles, helping Sans sit back up in the shallow water. “The hell is this thing, anyway?”

“Huh…? Oh, I'm not sure, but… looks like there's something cool in it,” Sans says, fumbling to pull the item into his lap. “How does this thing open…?”

Papyrus watches as Sans finds the metal clasps along the sides, flipping them open and forcing the stuck case to pry open. 

“... no… no way.”

Sans’ face slowly lights up, his grin widening.

“ _ No way!! _ ”

“...what  _ is _ that?” Papyrus frowns in confusion as Sans pulls the instrument out of its case. 

“It's a  _ trombone! _ ” Sans exclaims, excitement practically rolling off his bones as he examines it. “Only the  _ greatest instrument ever! _ I've got one at home, but this one looks like it's seen better days…”

He tries to move the slide, and instead of a smooth glide, it sticks, finally jerking free with some force. 

“Still, if I had a bit of time and magic, I bet I could make it like new,” Sans continues, and Papyrus can hear the hum in his voice. “It wouldn't be  _ that _ hard, either… just a bit of work…”

Papyrus blinks as the light slowly fades from Sans’ eyes, and he puts the instrument back, closing the case and pushing it away from himself. 

“You don't want it…?”

“...where am I gonna keep it?” Sans asks, quietly. “It's not like I've got a place of my own to put it. All it's gonna do is take up space at your house… I don't wanna be that much of a bother.”

“Sans… it wouldn't--”

“It's fine, Papyrus. Really. ...I'd just annoy the hell out of you if I had it anyway, heh. My brother can't stand it when I play, so--”

“Sans.”

The smaller skeleton grows quiet as he sees the firm look in Papyrus’ face. 

“I'm not your brother,” he says, gently, in spite of his expression. “And I wouldn't care if it was just a bunch of metal pots you're supposed to bang on at two in the morning. If it's gonna make you happier, take the trombone back with us.”

Sans feels his breath hitch in his throat as he stares at Papyrus.

“... you… you sure…?” he finally asks, as though afraid to be led on. 

“Wouldn't have said it if I wasn't,” Papyrus answers, letting a smile creep to his face. “You gonna be able to carry it home, though? It looks pretty bulky…”

“N-No -- I mean, yeah, this thing has handles, see? Look--”

Sans tries to pull the case around to show Papyrus, but he hits an unstable part of the trash heap in the process; the pile collapses further, and several dark bottles tumble down from higher up, finally stopping as they roll into the black case. 

“Huh? What're these…?”

Confused, Sans grabs two of the bottles, handing one to Papyrus so they both can examine one.

“... is this… beer?” Sans frowns, rotating the bottle in his hands. “This looks like the stuff that Grillby keeps behind the bar, but… none of those bottles had these colorful labels…”

“Hah, look, Sans -- this one's got a zombie on it, check it out.”

Curious, Sans looks up from his brightly-labeled bottle to more closely examine the one he gave Papyrus. 

“Hah! That is pretty cool,” he agrees, chuckling as he sees the label. 

“Do these all have different labels?” the taller skeleton asks, scooting over to examine more of the fallen bottles. 

“I dunno,” Sans shrugs, turning back to swap out the one in his hands, “but these look  _ way _ more interesting than the ones back home.”

“Yeah, sometimes Muffet gets beer as like, a specialty item on the menu, but none of it comes in bottles like -- whoa, kid, this one's got skeletons on it!”

“Wait,  _ really? _ Lemme see.”

Papyrus turns the bottle towards Sans to show him. 

“...why is that skeleton not wearing anything?” Sans asks, bringing a hand to his mouth to stifle his laugh. “That's, uh… that’s pretty gross.”

“Maybe humans think it's artsy or something,” Papyrus suggests, but he can't keep the grin off his face either. “Or maybe they're just into that kind of thing on the surface.”

“You think…? Man. I knew humans were messed up, but that's, uh… a whole new level of weird, heh.”

Papyrus chuckles, and sets the bottle to the side before turning some of the others over to look at their labels.

“These all look… pretty interesting, to be honest,” he admits with a quiet shrug. “Kinda want to bring some of ‘em home, but…”

“Well, why don't you?” Sans asks, with only a hint of teasing in his voice. “It's your house, isn't it? Bring home what you want.”

“Well, true… but there's kinda no point in bringing home something I'm not gonna drink, ‘cause I'm not gonna drink by myself. Unless you're offering to try ‘em out with me, heh.”

Sans can't remember the last time he drank -- when he went from trying to forget every timeline to forcing himself to remember every detail. And there's some strong part of him that feels like he's not allowed to try and forget that this isn't home, not by any means. 

But there's something in the casual way Papyrus throws out the suggestion that piques his already-growing curiosity.

“I mean… I'm willing to try a couple of ‘em with you, if you really want,” he shrugs. “Like… when we're watching, uh, Napstabot, or whatever his name is.”

“Yeah…? ...Alright, then. Any of ‘em in particular you wanna try, then, kiddo?”

Sans looks over the bottles, deliberating whether this is a wise idea in the first place, but eventually decides on a few bottles and hands them over to Papyrus. 

“You get to carry them,” he says, cracking a grin. “After all, I'm gonna be lugging  _ this _ guy back with us, heh.”

“Fair enough,” Papyrus chuckles, standing up to tuck the bottles into his cargo short pockets. “Clothes, instruments, and beer… today was an interesting trip to the dump, huh?”

Sans’ grin widens as he pushes himself to his feet, hoisting the trombone case off the ground with him.

“Not the most interesting trip I've ever taken,” he says as they make their way back to drier land. “But definitely not the most boring, heh.”

* * *

“...and then he, he comes outta the dump wearing this t-shirt that just says “cool dude” in all caps! An’ I ask him, ‘cause, y’know, I  _ gotta _ know, ‘Pap, where'd you find that?’ And he…”

Sans can't speak through his giggle fit, but he takes another swig of his drink, and calms himself enough to continue. 

“...he says, ‘ _ I improved it, brother! It didn't say cool earlier, but now I made it better! Nyeh heh heh! _ ”

Papyrus bursts into peals of laughter, and Sans’ grins widens to the point that his face starts to ache.

“Oh  _ man, _ kiddo,” Papyrus finally responds, fumbling for his own half-full glass to drink from it. “Your brother, he, uh… he sounds like a real character.”

“My bro,” Sans announces, pointing a dramatic finger at Papyrus even as he wobbles where he sits, “is the  _ best. _ ”

“The best what?”

“ _ Yes. _ ”

Papyrus breaks down laughing again, nearly spilling his glass as he doubles over.

“I mean, I’m sure that, that  _ your _ bro is cool, too,” Sans quickly adds, practically shaking his hand in Papyrus’ face as though that would placate whatever anger the taller skeleton might have felt. “But I mean… is your bro as cool as  _ the Great Papyrus? _ ”

“I dunno, kid,” Papyrus grins, still chuckling. “Is  _ your _ bro as great as  _ the Magnificent Sans? _ ”

“Hey, hey hey  _ hey, _ ” Sans huffs, exaggerating the force of his scowl. “I already told you, yeah?  _ My _ bro… is the  _ best. _ The…  _ the _ best.”

“Well… he can be the best along with my bro, who’s  _ also _ the best. Fair?”

Sans leans his head back farther than he normally would as he mulls this over.

“...yeah, I guess I can deal with that,” he finally admits, the corners of his mouth pulling up into a cheesy grin. “I mean, who  _ wouldn’t _ wanna be compared to my great bro?”

His smile lingers for a few moments longer, but it soon falls, and he looks into his glass to see his darkened reflection in his drink.

“...s’why, I, uh, I can’t… understand,” he mumbles, letting his words start to slur together. “I don’t get why… why anyone would want to… to hurt him…?”

“Hm? Sans…?”

Sans pauses, then takes another long drink that finally empties his glass.

“I mean, I don’t, I don’t…  _ get it, _ ” he continues, his voice starting to crack. “Pap, he’s, he’s so  _ nice _ \-- he’s  _ too nice _ to people sometimes, but he, he  _ means it, all _ the time, so why would  _ anyone _ wanna do  _ anything _ to him--”

“Sans…”

“And  _ more than once, _ too! Like, over and over and  _ over _ again, I can’t even -- I can’t even keep track anymore, but Pap keeps  _ welcoming _ them with, with open arms, and I can’t make him see that he’s gonna get--”

“ _ Sans. _ ”

His rambling comes to a stop as he feels Papyrus’ hands on his face, and he looks up, the pain still fresh in his eyes.

“I think… maybe you’ve had a bit too much to drink,” Papyrus says softly, gently running his thumbs over Sans’ cheekbones. “Maybe we should call it a night, kiddo.”

“N -- no, I’m fine, I’m fine,” Sans shakes his head, but only a little so as not to dissuade Papyrus from continuing the oddly soothing gesture. “It’s just… y’know, I… nobody else in my world really… remembers the timelines like I do, so I’ve kinda… y’know, been…”

His eyes glance downward, and his voice softens to an almost-slurred mumble.

“...been kinda… bottling it up for… for a while.”

For a few moments, all Sans hears is the quiet voices coming from the television across the room as he focuses on the feeling of Papyrus’ soft touch.

“...sorry,” he finally mumbles, closing his eyes. “Maybe you’re right, maybe I should, uh, go to bed or somethi--!”

A startled gasp escapes him as Papyrus slips his hands down to under Sans’ arms, and he pulls Sans into his lap, wrapping his arms around the smaller skeleton.

“Sorry, kiddo,” Papyrus mutters, resting the side of his face against Sans’ skull as he rubs a hand over Sans’ spine. “I didn’t mean to… to dredge up painful memories for you.”

Some hazy part of his mind thinks that he should be more surprised by the pull into Papyrus’ lap, or even just the feeling of having his back touched in such a gentle way… but Sans finds himself sinking slowly against Papyrus, breathing in the smell of stale cigarette smoke that emanates from the other’s orange hoodie.

“It… it’s fine,” he finally responds, quietly. “It’s fine, you, uh… didn’t really know. I, uh, try not to think about it too much myself, y’know, so…”

He trails off, distracted by the soft, soothing sensation of Papyrus’ magic humming off his bones and resonating with him.

“...it’s fine,” Sans repeats softly, closing his eyes and idly grabbing at Papyrus’ hoodie with one hand. “...s’fine.”

He relaxes against Papyrus, only shifting a little as the other’s hands slowly start to slip down, stroking the lower vertebrae of his spine through his shirt and hoodie.

“...you okay with this, kiddo…?”

Papyrus’ words reach him through a fog of alcohol and growing drowsiness, and Sans sighs quietly, grasping for words.

“...s’fine,” he finally slurs quietly, nuzzling his head against Papyrus’ chest. “S’fine… don’t mind. Keep goin’...”

He feels Papyrus’ chest move as the taller skeleton chuckles quietly, and smiles a bit himself, even as he shifts from the sensation of the other’s hands gently stroking his spine through the thick fabric of his hoodie.

Before he finally drifts off to sleep, Sans feels something vaguely like the soft click of teeth against the top of his skull.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can _finally_ put in my relationship tags! Fontcest hatemail, here I come!  <3


	14. Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So while most of the people who cannot or will not tolerate fontcest of any variety have probably already left as of last chapter, I'm going to make this announcement for those souls who are still sticking around.
> 
> First, that I am very sorry for not tagging the relationship sooner; this is my first time writing a pairing that could be legitimately triggering to some, and I did not think about that when I started my first round of tags. This apology comes too late for some to see, but I'm making it all the same.
> 
> Second, for those who have decided to stick around despite discomforts: _any chapters that have more "explicit" scenes_ will be tagged with an * at the beginning of the chapter title. Any "action" that ensues will be in the later half of the chapter, usually after a chapter break divider, for those who may want to read the plot but are worried about facing any actual serious shipping. _The ship will be brought up throughout the rest of the fic, though,_ so please don't expect the shipping to be neatly divided into specific sections of the fic.

_ “Hey, Papyrus.” _

_ “Hm? What is it, kiddo?” _

_ Sans is quiet for a moment, idly tracing his fingers over the bones of Papyrus’ hand as he curls up a little more in his lap. Papyrus lets him play with his hand, watching the smaller skeleton with a certain fondness in his smile. _

_ “You, uh… you ever wonder why I wound up here in the first place?” Sans finally asks, but his voice is a lot more casual than Papyrus expects for such a question. “I mean, I kinda told you  _ **_how_ ** _ , but… you ever wonder  _ **_why?_ ** _ ” _

_ With his free hand, Papyrus rubs the back of his skull, breathing out through his nasal cavity. _

_ “I mean… maybe a bit?” he admits, shrugging. “But probably not as much as you have, heh. I’ve been more thinking about how to get you back home, since… y’know. You kinda made it clear that was your priority.” _

_ “...yeah.” _

_ He hears the small note of reluctance in Sans’ voice, and frowns softly. _

_ “...something wrong, kiddo?” _

_ “No! No, not… not really, anyway. ...just.” _

_ “...just?” _

_ Sans squirms a little, then quietly lays his head on Papyrus’ shoulder. _

_ “I mean… what would you say if… I wasn’t in such a rush to go home just yet?” he mutters quietly, sliding his hand to entwine his fingers with the other skeleton’s. “That maybe… I wanted to stay here with you… a bit longer?” _

_ Papyrus’ breath catches in his throat, and he finds himself staring at his hand before looking down at Sans as best he can. _

_ “Sans, what… what about your brother?” he manages to choke out with a nervous chuckle. “I thought you wanted to get back to him as fast as possible.” _

_ “I do, but…” _

_ Papyrus feels Sans tracing his thumb along the arc where his thumb connects to his palm, and swallows nervously, waiting for Sans to continue his thought. _

_ “...this is nice, too,” the smaller skeleton finally finishes, a soft hum in his voice. “Don’t you think…?” _

_ “...S-Sans, I…” _

_ He feels Sans softly nuzzle his shoulder, and-- _

He wakes up with a start, eyes snapping open suddenly.

For a few long moments, Papyrus sits slumped against the couch, with only the soft whine of the television to punctuate the silence along with his ragged breathing. Eventually, he reaches up with one hand, letting a sigh escape him as he rubs the sleep from his eyes.

“...hnh…”

His breath hitches as he feels Sans shift against him, then stretch slowly, accidentally brushing one of his arms against Papyrus’ face.

“M… Morning, kiddo,” Papyrus finally manages to say, moving his head away from Sans’ arm. “How, uh… how’re you doing?”

“Mnh…?”

Sans pushes himself off of Papyrus, and the taller skeleton watches carefully as he looks around, as though seeing his surroundings for the first time.

“...Sans?”

Papyrus doesn’t expect Sans to slump back against him, and stiffens, one hand gripping the couch armrest.

“K-Kiddo…?”

“ _ Whaaat? _ ” Sans finally groans, raising a hand to hold his head. “ _ Ughh… _ my  _ head… _ ”

As Sans continues grumbling under his breath, Papyrus lets the tension start to leave his body, but still can’t bring himself to put a hand on the other skeleton.

“...drink too much last night?” he asks, voice soft.

“Shh. No talking, no answers, just --  _ shh. _ ”

Papyrus doesn’t expect Sans to reach up and push a hand over his mouth, and goes rigid once more, thankful that Sans can’t see his panicked expression.

“...better,” the shorter skeleton finally says after a few long moments of silence, and pulls his hand back to his chest, much to Papyrus’ relief. “Ugh… my head feels like it’s gonna split…”

“...you, uh... you want me to get you a glass of water?” Papyrus brings himself to ask as the last traces of nervousness fade away, replaced by concern.

“...yeah, that’d be… great. Hang on…”

With a grunt and what seems like great effort, Sans finally climbs out of Papyrus’ lap, collapsing face-down onto the other half of the couch and sprawling over as much of it as possible.

“Should I get you a glass, or should I get a watering can and point you towards the window instead?” Papyrus jokes as he finally pushes himself to his feet, an ache rushing to his own head as he stands.

“No light,  _ please _ no light…”

“Relax, kid. I was just teasing. Hang on…”

He stretches out his legs before stumbling into the kitchen, and Papyrus fumbles for the light switch momentarily before realizing that maybe leaving the lights off would be the smarter idea. Instead, he goes to the sink, fishing through the dirty dishes to find a clean-enough cup to fill with water.

As he finds one and sets it under the tap, he can’t stop the dream from creeping back into his mind, and he rubs his forehead before dragging his hand slowly down his face.

He wants to push these thoughts out of his mind, but Papyrus can still feel Sans curled up against him, feel their fingers entwined, and it felt -- it  _ feels _ like… like something he hadn’t even realized he wanted. Almost as much as holding Sans’ face, as passing out with Sans in his arms…

_ The hell is wrong with you? _ Papyrus chides himself, frowning as he closes his eyes.  _ Getting worked up over a damn dream… over something that happened when you were both drunk. And even if it meant a damn thing… Not like he’s planning on sticking around for long. _

He lets out a slow, long sigh, gripping the edge of the counter with his free hand.

_ So even if there was anything to it… there’s no point in getting attached. _

The sound of splashing water catches his attention, and Papyrus opens his eyes to see the glass in the sink overflowing. Cursing quietly, he turns off the tap, then pours out some of the water.

_...don’t let this be a sign for how today’s gonna go, _ he shakes his head before bringing the glass back out to Sans.

“Here you go, kiddo. Got your water.”

“Mmh…”

With a heavy groan, Sans reluctantly sits up. Papyrus sinks into the couch next to Sans, and hands him the glass, trying not to notice as the other’s bony fingers brush lightly over his own.

“...thanks,” Sans mumbles quietly as he takes a sip of water, slumping back into the cushions.

“Mm… you’re welcome, Sans.”

As Sans slowly drinks from the glass, Papyrus searches his pockets for his cigarettes, finding them in his cargo shorts. With a sigh, he pulls out a single cigarette and his lighter, biting into the filter before he lights up.

The nicotine hits his system, and Papyrus holds the smoke in for several long moments before softly exhaling, a thin cloud of white dissipating from around his face.

“...How long have you been smoking?”

“Hm?”

He glances over at Sans, who clears his throat after taking another sip of water.

“How, uh… how long have you smoked?” he repeats himself, glancing sideways at Papyrus. “...just curious, is all.”

Papyrus sighs, but is secretly grateful for the distraction as he twists his face into an odd expression, thinking back.

“Truth be told, I… don’t even really remember when I started,” he finally admits with a shrug, taking another drag of his cigarette. “It was definitely before Sans started training to be in the Royal Guard, I remember that much. He, uh, wasn’t too happy about me picking up this particular habit, heh. Said it made me a smelly older brother.”

Sans snorts into his glass mid-sip, and Papyrus chuckles as he flicks a bit of ash onto the carpet.

“He’s been trying to get me to quit for a while,” the taller skeleton continues, staring off into the distance as he continues smoking. “We used to have a few ashtrays, but he got rid of ‘em… ‘cept now, all that means is that he gets mad at me for tossing cigarette butts everywhere. But, y’know… where am I supposed to put ‘em? He got rid of the ashtrays, y’know. Didn’t think that one through.”

“...you miss him, don’t you?”

Something in Papyrus’ chest tightens, and he looks over.

Sans is staring into his cup, looking into the reflection cast by what little water is left.

“...of course I miss him,” Papyrus sighs quietly, looking down but not away. “But… much as I miss Sans, I’m… pretty sure you miss your brother more.”

The soft, staticky whine of the television permeates the silence, filling it, until finally Sans leans over to set the glass on the end table.

“What did I say last night?” he asks, voice little more than a mumble.

“Kid…”

“ _ What did I say last night? _ ”

Papyrus heaves a heavy sigh, the corner of his mouth pulling to the side as he rubs his face.

“You, uh… started telling stories about your brother,” he admits quietly, reluctantly, almost. “About the two of you going places, like the dump… something about him finding a ‘cool dude’ shirt, or… making one? I was… kinda far gone at that point myself, kiddo.”

He pauses for a moment, hoping that maybe that would be enough to placate Sans…

“...that can’t have… been all.”

Papyrus feels his heart sinking in his chest, and he finishes his cigarette in one deep breath, pinching the end to extinguish the smolder.

“...you started… going on about how you couldn’t… that you couldn’t understand why anyone would want to hurt him,” he mutters, flicking the butt away from him. “That he’s… too nice for his own good, and that… whatever’s been happening to him, you’ve…”

He fumbles for a moment, as though the right words are physically in front of him, waiting to be found.

“...you’ve been… bottling it up for… you just said for ‘a while.’”

When Sans doesn’t respond right away, Papyrus dares to sneak a glance.

Sans’ hands are tangled up in his scarf, rubbing the red fabric between his bony fingers.

“...you probably don’t wanna talk about it, do you, kiddo?” Papyrus asks quietly.

“No, not particularly,” Sans chuckles, and Papyrus hears the uncomfortably familiar hollow tone in his voice. “I, uh. Sort of regret asking at all now, actually.”

Papyrus almost lets slip that he regrets having to tell Sans, but instead bites his tongue as he glances away.

“You, uh… you wanna maybe go see Undyne today?” he suggests, awkwardly tugging at the neckline of his hoodie. “See if maybe she’s got any other ideas on finding you a way back home?”

The silence lasts a little longer than Papyrus expected, but he eventually hears Sans sigh.

“Not really,” he admits, his voice cracking a little. “But I… we probably should… just in case.”

‘Alright. Just, uh, lemme know whenever you’re ready--”

“Can we, um…”

Sans seems almost as startled by his interruption as Papyrus, but the smaller skeleton clears his throat before continuing.

“...can we stop by the dump on our way there?” he asks, flicking his eyes over to the other skeleton. “...I wanna look for something. Something specific.”

“I… yeah, that’s… no problem,” Papyrus shrugs, rubbing the back of his skull. “Just… you know the drill, just let me know when you’re ready to go and we’ll… y’know, we’ll head out.”

“Alright. ...uh, thanks… Papyrus.”

He still doesn’t know why Sans keeps thanking him, but Papyrus finds a small smile creeping to his face regardless.

“You’re welcome, Sans,” he replies, slowly pushing himself to his feet. “I’ll be up in my room just relaxing, just… knock or holler when it’s time, alright?”

Sans nods, sinking a little further into the couch, and Papyrus finds himself both reluctant and grateful for the chance to be alone with his thoughts as he trudges up the stairs to his room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Given that he only has 1 hitpoint, Sans probably has next to no tolerance for alcohol... poor guy.


	15. Reproducibility

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Reproducibility_ is the ability of an entire experiment or study to be duplicated, either by the same researcher or by someone else working independently. Reproducing an experiment is called _replicating_ it. Reproducibility is one of the main principles of the scientific method.

“How’s, uh… how’s he doing?”

Papyrus leans back in Undyne’s chair, sighing as he puts his feet on the only clear spot on her desk.

“...better, I guess,” he finally admits, rubbing his eye. “Well, no ‘guess’ about it -- he’s doing a hell of a lot better than, uh… the last time you called, that’s for sure. But I wouldn’t really say he’s doing ‘well,’ if that’s what you’re asking.”

Undyne bites her lip, glancing over her shoulder back at Sans.

Sans is lying on the floor, hands stretched up towards the ceiling as he idly examines the same device from before clipped to his finger once again.

“You, uh… really think you’ll get a better magic reading this time?” Papyrus asks, letting his gaze also drift to the other skeleton.

“I sure hope so,” Undyne says, a worried look on her blue face as she fiddles with an object in her pocket. “He didn’t, um, seem to thrilled at the idea of the determination test… can’t say I, um, blame him, though. It’s more reliable, but a lot more, well… invasive, so…”

“Yeah… he didn’t look too thrilled with that,” Papyrus agrees. “But I mean… I wouldn’t be, either. Not too fond of needles, myself.”

Sans lets his head roll over to stare at them both, and Undyne looks away, hiding her embarrassed expression behind some of her long bangs falling into her face.

“...wh-what about you, Papyrus?” she asks the taller skeleton, scratching behind her fins. “How are you holding up…?”

“Me? I’m…”

The word “fine” starts to pass through his teeth, but Papyrus stops himself, pausing.

“You’re not fine,” Undyne shakes her head, voice quiet. “Don’t lie to me about that, Papyrus. There’s been too much going on for you to really be ‘fine.’”

“...then, I’m… hanging in there,” he finally answers, with a tired half-smile. “Put it this way… I’d still be more worried about him than me. How’s that for an answer?”

“...within the realm of ‘acceptable,’ I suppose,” Undyne sighs, though she looks no less pleased. “But I’m still going to, to… to worry about you until this is resolved, alright?”

The half-smile fades slowly from Papyrus’ face, and he meets Sans’ stare from halfway across the room.

Sans holds his gaze for a few moments before looking away, staring back up at the ceiling and folding his hands over his chest.

“...I’d still worry about him more than me,” he repeats himself quietly, pushing away from the desk. “‘Scuse me…”

Undyne scooches out of the way as Papyrus walks past her, and he shoves his hands into his shorts pockets as he approaches Sans, stopping beside him.

“How you doin’, kiddo?” he asks, his voice casual.

“Well… things are looking up right now,” Sans answers with a shrug and a half-smile. “Well,  _ I’m _ looking up. Literally. ...it’s about the only way I can do it right now, heh.”

Papyrus cracks a small smile of his own, then sits down on the cold tile floor, still looking at Sans.

“I was kinda hoping she’d have, y’know… a  _ new _ idea,” the smaller skeleton admits quietly, his expression falling a bit. “But I guess there’s a point… I was kinda low on magic last time we came here, huh? All that… running from Alphys and stuff. Really kinda sucked it out of me, heh.”

“Yeah… maybe we should’ve waited the first time,” Papyrus agrees. “But, uh… at least we’re not jumping straight to the other idea, huh?”

Sans shudders, his face pulling into a look of revulsion.

“ _ Don’t _ bring it up again,” he seethes, left eye flashing blue and gold before his sockets hollow out.

“Sorry, kiddo. Didn’t mean to upset you like that.”

He’s silent for a few long moments, but eventually Sans sighs, closing his eyes as he laces his fingers together over his ribs.

Papyrus notices, and looks away, but not quick enough to dissuade the memory of his dream from instantly resurfacing.

“...hey, Papyrus.”

“Y-Yeah?”

If Sans notices the stutter, he doesn’t say anything as he slowly opens his eyes, and Papyrus is thankful for that.

“Are you… are you and Undyne good friends?” Sans asks, still staring up at the ceiling.

“Uh…? Yeah, we’re… we’re pretty close,” Papyrus nods, slowly. “I’ve known her for a long time… since before she became the Royal Scientist, even.  ...why do you ask?”

“Well, I mean… you guys were talking about me like I wasn’t even here, so I wanted to make sure you were at least talking to someone that  _ you _ trusted, you know?”

Papyrus tenses, and looks away, feeling a hot flush of embarrassment rush to his face.

“...sorry,” he mutters, wanting to shrink into the floor. “...didn’t mean to, uh… be so rude.”

“...it’s fine. I’m just giving you a hard time. I was just curious, is all. I shouldn’t be surprised, since, well…”

Sans trails off, and Papyrus looks back over, his embarrassment fading away.

“...since…?”

“...Pap was…  _ is _ close to Undyne in… in my world, too.”

Sans’ voice gets progressively softer, until his last few words are little more than the passing of breath through his teeth. But there’s something about the way his face falls as well that weighs on Papyrus, and though he can’t bring himself to touch Sans directly, he gently puts a hand on the other’s shoulder, rubbing his thumb over the joint reassuringly.

“...I hope she’s at least checked in on him,” Sans mutters, not really acknowledging the soft touch. “Knowing Undyne, though, she’s, um… probably moved in to look after him. Or made him move in with her, heh. She always did, uh, have a sort of… soft spot for Pap, even though she doesn’t show it so much to him.”

There’s a small pause before Sans lets out a hollow chuckle, and a pained smile twists at his face.

“At least, that’s how it is, when… I mean, in timelines when they’re both ali--”

“Hey,” Papyrus interrupts, shaking Sans’ shoulder gently. “Hey,  _ hey. _ None of that, now. Everyone’s fine in your world, and soon, you’re gonna get to see ‘em again yourself. Alright? That’s why we’re here right now -- to try and get you home again.”

Sans looks over at him, and Papyrus can see the doubt in his eyes --  _ “How can you be so damn sure” _ \-- but the smaller skeleton just sighs, and tiredly nods his head.

“Yeah,” he agrees quietly, one hand lightly toying with the red scarf on his neck. “...just, y’know… hard to forget the bad that’s happened, sometimes.”

Papyrus smiles softly at Sans, like that’s all he’d intended to do, and tightens his soft grip on the other’s shoulder.

“Okay, Sans, I got it working again!”

Both Sans and Papyrus look up as Undyne approaches, a wide, toothy smile on her face.

“That was, uh, pretty quick,” Sans comments, but he pulls an impressed expression as Undyne passes him a thin, white cell phone. “Thanks, Undyne.”

“O-Oh, it -- it was nothing!” the royal scientist stammers, her blue face flushing to an interesting shade of purple as she tries to cover her blush. “It was just a little water damaged, and uh, needed a new screen, th-that’s all! And, um, I -- I put my number in there too, in case you, uh, need anything from me!””

“Huh. Cool, saves me the effort of having to ask, heh. Thanks a bunch, Undyne; I appreciate it. Really.”

“Y-Yeah, you're, you're welcome, Sans! Um, I'm almost, uh, done getting the readings I need, too, so it -- that is, you should be able to, uh, go back soon, so--”

Papyrus sees the corners of Sans’ smile tighten, and he gently rubs his shoulder in a soothing manner as he smiles up at Undyne.

“Thanks, Undyne,” he repeats as Sans starts fiddling with the phone. “We appreciate it.”

Undyne smiles nervously, then scoots back over to her desk to keep working. 

“...thanks,” Sans finally mumbles, his smile dropping. 

“You looked uncomfortable,” Papyrus mutters in response, with a half-shrug. “Figured you could use a bailout. I thought you said you didn't have a phone here?”

“I didn't, so -- this was what I was looking for in the dump. Don't need much, just something that takes pictures and makes calls. Here, put your number in.”

Sans shoves the phone into Papyrus’ hands, then folds his hands back over his chest and stares up at the ceiling. 

Papyrus starts to type in his number, then pauses, his gaze slowly drifting back over to Sans. 

“You need my number when we go practically everywhere together?” he asks, the teasing tone in his voice masking genuine curiosity. 

“Well, I mean… if I wanna go somewhere and you don't, or vice versa, or… whatever.  Or to leave you messages at two in the morning just because I can, heheh. Just put your number in the phone, buddy.”

Papyrus raises a browbone at the nickname, but chuckles, and finishes entering in his number.

“Gotta say, kid, I, uh… didn't expect you to, well…”

As Sans slowly glances out the corner of his eyesockets at him, Papyrus realizes that he's already too far in his sentence to back-pedal now. 

“To…?”

“...to start, uh… acting like you're… settling in.”

He looks over, but Sans is staring blankly forward again, his mouth fixed in a forced smile.

“I didn't mean it like you're giving--”

“Good, ‘cause I'm  _ not _ giving up,” Sans interrupts, voice hard. “But… while I'm stuck here, there's no point in not getting…  _ acclimated, _ I guess is the word I'm looking for. And that means getting a phone, and the numbers of people I…”

Sans trails off for a minute, but quickly picks back up before Papyrus can speak. 

“...people I'm gonna probably gonna talk to the most. ...y’know?”

Papyrus swallows, then forces a small smile at Sans.

“Alright, kiddo,” he nods, lightly tapping his fingers against Sans’ shoulder. “But, uh, you call me at two in the morning just to wake me up, and I'm gonna make you sleep on the floor.”

“Joke's on you, buddy, ‘cause, uh, the floor’s probably more comfortable than that lumpy old couch.”

Papyrus laughs, but not so much that he doesn't notice the wide, natural grin creep back onto Sans’ face. 

Something flutters up momentarily in his chest, but he ignores it, content to see the smile on Sans’ face.

* * *

“ _ Hmm hm hm… _ ”

Papyrus watches quietly as Sans dangles his feet over the edge of the boat, slippers in hand.

“Whatcha thinking about, Sans?” he finally asks, drumming his fingers against the wooden floor, wishing he hadn't smoked the last of his pack back at the lab. 

“...nothing important,” Sans shrugs, and he sets his slippers to the side. “Just about a little of everything. Y’see… when your head's as big as mine, it's hard to keep it full of thoughts sometimes, so you think of whatever you can…”

Papyrus can't help but start laughing over Sans, but the smaller skeleton doesn't seem to mind, judging by the way his his smile keeps stretching, wider and wider, until Papyrus is sure it must hurt to hold. But Sans holds it anyway, his eyes crinkling in the corners as he looks up at the other skeleton. 

“That's a smile that suits you, kiddo,” Papyrus finally calms enough to chuckle, his own face turned upwards in a grin.

“...yeah?”

Papyrus sees the corners of Sans’ mouth fall, just a bit, and he wonders if maybe that was the wrong thing to say. But the smile doesn’t fully fade, and Sans lets out a small chuckle as he looks away.

“Well, I mean,” the smaller skeleton shrugs. “What kind of comedian would I be if I couldn’t laugh at my own jokes, right? Even if they are fantastically bad, heh.”

“Sad times, indeed, if the comedian has nothing to laugh about. Hmm hm hm…”

Papyrus looks over his shoulder to stare at the riverperson, and Sans heaves a sigh, rolling his eyes.

“Always gonna be someone without a funny bone,” Sans mutters, rubbing the back of his head before he reaches into his pocket. “Ah, well. Can’t make everyone happy, heh.”

Papyrus looks back over in time to see Sans pulling the phone he picked up out of his pocket, and though he doesn’t try to peer at the screen, he can’t help but notice that Sans is typing out a text message.

“Texting Undyne already?” he teases softly, with a soft chuckle to his voice. “We only just left the lab.”

“Well… I forgot to ask her how long she thought it would take this time,” Sans shrugs as he hits send. “I just, y’know, want an idea of… how much quicker she thinks it’ll be this time. I, uh, I’m used to waiting, just…”

The phone buzzes in his hand, and Sans stares at the screen for a few silent moments before he looks away.

“...just, uh… I’m not very good at it.”

Something in his voice forces Papyrus’ breath to catch, and he can hear it in Sans’ silence--

_ But you knew that already, didn’t you? _

But there’s nothing he can really say in response, so he falls silent himself, looking away.

The boat glides quietly down the river, save for the sound of the water lapping against the shore, until Sans finally sighs and slides a little closer to Papyrus.

“Mm? What’s up, kiddo…?”

“I’m tired of being upset right now,” Sans shrugs, as though the answer were really that simple. “Let’s see how good this phone’s camera is. C’mon.”

Papyrus feels the same strange flutter from back in the lab creeping to his stomach, but ignores it as he slides a little closer to Sans, who holds the phone up for both of them to see the screen.

“...you’re so tall,” Sans frowns as he tries to fit them both in the view of the camera, holding the phone at different angles. “I think you might even be a little taller than Pap… even he fits in the frame most of the time…”

“Maybe you just need longer arms, kid,” Papyrus can’t help but tease, grinning down at Sans as the smaller skeleton huffs at him.

“If that’s how you’re gonna be, then  _ you _ take the pic,  _ Stretch. _ ”

Papyrus can’t help but bark out a small laugh at that, despite the snippy tone of Sans’ voice.

“I gotta say, I’ve uh… never actually heard that one before,” he admits as he takes the phone from Sans, holding it out. “Points to you for creativity, kid. Alright, let’s see…”

From the screen, Papyrus can see the aggravated look on Sans’ face melt away. But even as he takes the picture, he can see that the smile on the smaller skeleton isn’t as natural, isn’t as easy as the one he’d seen just earlier, so when Sans reaches to take his phone back, Papyrus holds it just out of reach.

“I’m, uh, gonna want that back--”

“I know, I know,” he interrupts, giving Sans a half-shrug. “I know you’ll wanna look at that picture, but, uh…”

He pauses, then lets his own wide grin creep to his face.

“...but first, lemme take a  _ skel-fie, _ kiddo.”

It starts as a snort, then quickly turns into a fit of hysterical giggles as Sans leans against Papyrus, covering his face but failing to hide his wide grin behind bony hands.

He doesn’t look at the phone screen, instead fixing Sans with a warm smile as he takes the second picture.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Going out of town for the holidays, but I'll see if I can't whip something up for immediately after. Next convention is coming up shortly though, so we'll see how it goes.


	16. *Night Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Buckle up for a long chapter; longest one to date by far.

Papyrus can see it on Sans’ face that the last few nights have been restless for him as well, but the fact that Sans has powered through an entire cup of his strongest coffee with nothing in it is its own compelling argument.

“D’you think Undyne will have an update today?” he mutters, raising the mug to his mouth before remembering that it's empty.

“You've been talking to her a hell of a lot more than I have, kiddo,” Papyrus sighs, offering Sans his own coffee. “You'd have a better answer to that than I would.”

“...she hasn't really been responding to her texts that much,” Sans admits as he takes Papyrus’ mug, then stares into it. “...I hope that means she's busy, not… y’know. Watching anime instead, heh. The Royal Scientist in my world, she, uh… she's pretty good at slacking off under pressure.”

Despite himself, Papyrus can't help but chuckle as he lights up a cigarette.

“Undyne’s not that lazy,” he replies, taking a long drag and holding the smoke for a moment. “Especially not when she's got it in her head to get something done, and I know she wants to help you out. I wouldn't be worried about her trying to slack off on purpose.”

He sees the doubtful look in Sans’ eyes, but the smaller skeleton says nothing as he quietly sips at what's left of the coffee.

Truth be told, he's grateful that Sans hasn't noticed the exhaustion in his own face -- or at least, hasn't said anything about it. Even after all this time, Papyrus still can't tell when Sans is genuinely oblivious and when he's just faking it… and, truth be told, Papyrus isn't always comfortable with not knowing.

But right now, if it means not having to explain that he's been losing sleep to his increasingly… _distracting_ dreams about Sans, the less he's asked, the better.

“You got anything you wanna do today, kiddo?” Papyrus asks, in a vague attempt to keep his mind off last night's particulars. “Anywhere you wanna go? Or, uh, not go?”

“What, like ‘out’?”

He snorts, and notices the quick grin that flashes across Sans’ face before the smaller skeleton sighs.

“...I'm kinda tired of going to Muffet's,” Sans admits, leaning sideways into the couch. “It's not _bad,_ just… I'm not…”

Papyrus watches as Sans gestures with his free hand, as though digging through something to find the right words, before the smaller skeleton lets his hand drop onto his leg.

“...not ready to… be a regular there,” he mutters, taking a small sip of coffee. “...no offense.”

“...nah, I… I understand,” Papyrus shakes his head, flicking the ash off the end of his cigarette and onto the carpet. “We've been going a lot lately… I'd cook, but it's normally my bro that makes the trek to Hotland to get groceries. He and Alphys like to make an adventure out of it, but, y’know…”

He sees the way Sans’ eyes darken, and quickly cuts himself off, taking another deep drag of his cigarette.

“Never mind that,” Papyrus shakes his head. “S’not relevant to the topic. Is there somewhere that, uh, you wanted to try and check out in Hotland, then? Since there's not really anything in Waterfall…”

Sans breathes out loudly through his nasal cavity, and taps his fingers against the mug in his hands with a sharp clicking sound.

“The, uh… the celebrity robot in my world has this… resort,” he begins slowly, choosing his words carefully. “It's really just an, um, an apartment building he bought out and turned to some fancy hotel, but they built this… restaurant-club addition to it. Overpriced, of course, but I kinda liked it.”

Papyrus lightly taps at his temple, a soft frown creeping to his face.

“Sounds an awful lot like Club NTT,” he mutters, more to himself than anything.

“I'm… sorry, club _what_ now?”

“Uh, Club NTT?” Papyrus repeats for Sans, enunciating the acronym’s letters a little more sharply than the mumble he'd been speaking in before. “Uh, Napstabot used to go by Napstaton before he decided the name wasn't ‘hip’ enough and rebranded himself, but he didn't change the name of the club. NTB doesn't ‘look as slick,’ or some… nonsense like that.”

Sans lets out a small laugh, and Papyrus finds himself smiling at the sound.

“I'm never gonna understand celebrities,” the smaller skeleton says, his own smile lingering on his face. “But you said it sounds a lot like what I'm describing?”

“Yeah, pretty much down to it being an old apartment complex, too,” Papyrus nods, realizing his cigarette has burned down to the filter. He ashes it out on the end table as he adds, “I'm, uh, not sure how much of a _restaurant_ it has, per se, but I know they have _some_ kind of… food court, I think, in the lobby, if nothing else. If you're up for it…”

He sees the way Sans’ eyes look upward in thought, and Papyrus lightly fidgets with the white cording that runs through his hood as he awaits the answer.

“...how far is it, though?” Sans finally asks, with a small frown. “In my world, it's like, half a day's hike away…”

“It's… on the far side of Hotland,” Papyrus admits, sighing a bit. “It's right before the Core, so that's, what… the ferry to the lab, then the elevator _by_ the lab, _if_ it's running, and…”

“Sounds about… the same from my world, then,” Sans frowns, drumming his fingers against the mug in his hands. “That's a long haul just to get dinner…”

“...we could… get a room at the hotel, if you want.”

He manages to keep his expression almost as neutral as Sans’, but inside, Papyrus kicks himself for even suggesting the idea in the first place.

“Just a suggestion, if you were, uh… pretty set on going,” he adds, rubbing the back of his head. “That way if we wanted to, uh, do other stuff in Hotland too, we don't have to worry about being, y’know… out and about at crazy hours.”

The more Sans stares at him, the more Papyrus regrets even mentioning the place at all, but he merely pulls another cigarette out, lighting it up like it's no big deal.

“...stuff like… buying food to cook,” Sans finally speaks, though he doesn't break eye contact. “So we can shake things up a bit when we get back.”

“Yeah, exactly,” Papyrus nods, almost sighing from the wave of relief that washes over him. “Or go and visit the Core, if you want. And whenever we're ready to go, we can swing by the lab to check on how things are moving in that direction. Sound like a plan?”

Sans sips the coffee, then pulls a small face before passing the mug back to Papyrus.

“It's cold now,” he grumbles, sticking his tongue out briefly. “But… it also sounds like a plan.”

Papyrus stares for a second, then realizes Sans is still holding the mug out to him.

“...great,” he finally says, and he's pretty sure the sound of relief follows his words. “Great, it's… it's a plan, then.”

Sans chuckles, and Papyrus can't tell if it's at him or just one of his occasional light laughs. But he doesn't really care as he takes a deep drag of his cigarette, letting the nicotine calm him down.

* * *

“This is our room? _This_ is _our room?_ ”

Papyrus hears the awe in Sans’ voice, and nearly drops the duffel bag from off his shoulder.

“This almost makes the cost worth it,” he mutters numbly, taking in the grandeur of the room. “Holy…”

“It’s _huge!_ ” Sans agrees, running into the room to jump on the bed. “And this _bed_ \-- what is it, like triple-extra-king?”

“Uh, the clerk said it was a ‘super deluxe extra large king,” Papyrus corrects, still in disbelief that he even _has_ to. “Because, you know, a room with two twin mattresses is too much to ask for, but _this? No problem._ ”

“‘Super whatever king,’” Sans half-repeats as he rolls from one end of the mattress to the other. “‘Big enough to fit the entire royal family. Literally.’”

Papyrus snorts, then finally walks into the room, kicking the door shut behind him. He drops the duffel bag into the closet, then sits on the edge of the mattress before he finally takes a look around.

The room would be almost too black, with the walls and the bedspread as pitch as they are in color, but the teal lamps on the walls provide more than enough light to see. The silvery carpet underfoot seems to emit its own soft glow as well, and Sans has rolled over to where the lamps are, flicking them on and off to show that the teal bulbs inside do, in fact, work.

Something about the room feels very familiar, and Papyrus opens his mouth to try and talk out what it is--

“Don't the colors remind you of Waterfall?”

He blinks, not expecting Sans to speak so unexpectedly. Yet as Papyrus takes a second, closer glance around the room, he realizes that Sans is right; the color and the lighting remind him off walking through the marsh to get to Alphys’, of picking up his brother from “warrior training,” of…

Papyrus slowly leans back until he is lying on the bed, and lets a low sigh escape him.

Small pinpricks of light glimmer in the ceiling, replicating the illusion of stars.

“Wow, they really pulled out all the stops. I think they're even supposed to look like surface world constellations.”

Papyrus cranes his head back, surprised to see Sans as close to him as he is. But Sans isn't looking at him, instead staring up at the ceiling with his hands folded over his chest.

“Yeah…?” the taller skeleton says, then looks more intently at the ceiling himself. “...huh, I think you're right, kiddo. Some of these look familiar. Like, isn't that one, uh… what's it called, the--”

“Yup, that's the What's It Called. Human scientists spent a lotta time coming up with the name for that one.”

Papyrus can't help but snort, then lets out a laugh as he looks back up at Sans.

“That was pretty bad, even for you, kiddo,” he grins, lightly tapping his knuckles against the other skeleton’s skull.

“You still laughed,” Sans retorts, his own face twisted up with a cheesy smile. “But… here. Give me your hand.”

He wasn't expecting to hear that come out of Sans’ mouth, and Papyrus hesitates for a moment before extending his hand towards the smaller skeleton.

He feels Sans’ fingers curl around his wrist, and almost doesn't even realize that Sans is pointing his hand towards the ceiling.

“That one there,” Sans begins, his voice taking on a strange tone of authority, “is called, uh, Cassiopeia, and it goes like… that, see?”

Papyrus can only bring himself to nod as the other skeleton gestures with his hand, presumably tracing out a shape in the “stars” on the ceiling.

“And then obviously that's the Big Dipper,” Sans continues, moving Papyrus’ hand to point out more constellations. “And that one over there, uh… oh, that one's Gemini. Heh, even the fake stars in this room have brothers.”

“Mm? How so?”

“Uh, it's been a long time since I read that book Pap gave me about stars and space, but if I remember right, the two brightest stars in Gemini are named after brothers in some old human myth. Castor and, uh… something else, heh. Pollux or something like that. One of ‘em was immortal, but the other wasn't, so, uh… when the mortal one died, his bro, uh… shared his immortality with him so they could both live in the stars… together…”

Sans goes silent in a way that makes Papyrus crane his neck again to look at him.

“...I don't really, uh, like that myth very much,” the smaller skeleton chuckles, with a hollow sound Papyrus hasn't heard in a while. “I prefer my stories to be… happier. ...less, uh… less tragic, you might say.”

Sans doesn't make any motion to let go of his wrist, so after a few moments of heavy silence, Papyrus gently twists his hand so that Sans’ fingers rest lightly against his palm.

It isn't until several seconds later that Sans finally lets his hand slide off, coming to rest on the black comforter underneath.

“In any case, this is a nice room,” he shrugs, looking over at Papyrus to give him a small smile. “I think it's a little nicer than MTT Resort. The colors aren’t so… obnoxious. But, uh, don't tell Mettaton I said that, heh.”

Papyrus has no real idea why “Mettaton” would care, but he snickers quietly anyway,letting his hand rest on his chest.

“Relax, kiddo,” he assures, returning Sans’ forced smile with a soft one of his own. “Your secret’s safe with me. Promise.”

Something in Sans’ face relaxes, but he looks away before Papyrus can see whether his smile changes, as well.

“...you wanna take a nap first, or you wanna go see what it's like downstairs?” the smaller skeleton asks, voice nonchalant. “Right now I'm, uh, down for either one. It was still a hike to get up here in the first place, heh.”

“Well, we haven't eaten all day,” Papyrus points out, lightly kicking one of his legs out of a need to fidget. “And I dunno about you, kid, but that's not a record I'm necessarily _proud_ of, _or_ happy with, especially right now.”

“Yeah, good point. Let's go get some food.”

* * *

It isn't the fancy, sit-down establishment that Sans had described it being like in his world, but Sans doesn't seem to care as he grabs another slice of pizza, nearly knocking over his drink in the process.

“Careful there, kiddo,” Papyrus chuckles, peeling off another piece of silver-colored pepperoni from his slice. “It ain't as good as the stuff we found at the dump, but it'd still be a waste if you spilled it, heh.”

“The real waste would be the money we spent on this stuff,” Sans mutters, taking a drink from the nearly-full glass before setting it down a little further out of his space. “I don’t remember drinks being this expensive at MTT Resort, and don’t get me started on the food. ‘Course, when you never had to pay for your own meal, you kinda lose track of things like money, so…”

Papyrus raises a browbone as he bites into his pizza, some of the silver food paint transferring from the slice to his teeth.

“Never had to pay?” he asks, wiping the color residue and grease from his face with his crumpled napkin. “Who’d you trick into making that sweet deal with you?”

Sans is quiet for a moment, his head slightly turned towards the empty club stage.

“I, uh…  used to perform at MTT Resort,” he finally admits, voice soft as he props up his head with one hand. “Mettaton was, uh… he’d hire outside performers to fill the stage at his restaurant. I’d show up, tell a few bad jokes, and get something to eat in return. Pretty good arrangement, I thought, heh. Met some interesting characters that way.”

Sans reaches for his pizza, and takes a big bite out of it, chewing slowly as his eyes never really drift away from the stage.

“...you miss it?” Papyrus mutters, noticing the traces of something that looks like nostalgia on the smaller skeleton’s face. “Performing, I mean. Something tells me you were pretty good at it.”

“Don't you mean bad at it?” Sans replies with a quick wink. “What kind of jokes would I tell other than bad ones, after all?”

Even as Papyrus chuckles, he sees the corners of Sans’ smile fall as the smaller skeleton looks back to the stage.

“...I guess I kind of miss it,” he quietly admits, reaching for his drink to take a long sip. “It's easy to joke about your situation when nobody knows what's really going on. ...when nobody can really call you out on it.”

“Sans…”

Sans pauses, then silently downs the rest of his drink, setting his empty glass down with a thunk on the table.

“Why's no one performing, anyway?” he asks, tracing his finger along the rim of his glass. “Breaks and all are one thing, but nobody's been on stage since we got here, and it looks set up for a performance.”

“...maybe they’re, uh, waiting for someone to show up,” Papyrus finally suggests, though he can’t shake the uncomfortable weight of Sans’ words from his heart. “Maybe Napstabot is late, or something. I mean, he’s got all his TV shows, so…”

“Man, some hot-shot _he_ is, if he’s late to his own performance. Uh, don’t tell him I said that, though, heh.”

Sans lets out another small chuckle, but Papyrus notices him drumming his fingers against the table, and something shifts in Sans’ eyes that makes him pause, just a bit.

“...you look like you’re up to something,” the taller skeleton comments, narrowing his eyes a little. “What are you planning?”

“Me? Up to something?”

The offended look Sans pulls off is definitely amusing to see, but Papyrus can tell that it’s not genuine.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” the smaller skeleton hums, propping his head up in one hand as he smiles across the table at Papyrus. “I would _never_ dream of stealing the spotlight from someone else, after all.”

Papyrus feels a now-familiar flutter return to his stomach upon seeing Sans’ smile, and takes a drink, trying hard to make the gesture look casual.

“Well, kiddo,” he finally replies, setting down his glass and holding onto it firmly for a moment. “Can you really call it stealing the spotlight if there’s no one in it in the first place? I mean, it’s just an empty stage right now…”

“... heh. You got a point… ...I’m gonna go ask a question. I’ll, uh, be right back.”

Before Papyrus can ask where he’s trying to go, Sans has walked off, and in the dim lighting, he can faintly make out the smaller skeleton walking up to the host stand.

Whatever Sans says to the host, it’s enough to make them grab him by the sleeve and pull him through an employee-only entrance, pushing past anyone that stood in their way. Somehow, in the darkness, Sans spots Papyrus and flashes him with a huge smile and a thumbs-up.

It does nothing to explain to Papyrus what’s going on, and less to assuage the feeling of uncertainty that creeps into his chest -- especially when the seconds Sans is out of sight start to roll over into minutes.

Just as he starts to push his own chair back, ready to look for Sans, the lights dim further around him, while the stage lights finally turn on.

“Hm, is this thing even on…?”

Over the excited murmuring of a crowd that’s been seemingly waiting for something, Papyrus hears a familiar voice boom through the speakers, and looks to the stage.

Sans is tapping a bony finger into the microphone, and the soft _thump_ of the reverberation echoes through the room. Seemingly satisfied, he brings the microphone up near his mouth, his smile widening.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemonsters,” the small skeleton starts off, lightly fiddling with the drawstring of his hoodie as he glances around the room. “As you can see, the real star of the show is running a little late, so until then, you get to put up with me. But I promise, I do actually have a well-developed _funny bone,_ heh.”

Sans shakes his arm lightly, and a quiet, scattered chuckle rises from the crowd.

Papyrus can’t shake the soft frown from his face, and slowly slides back into his seat, carefully watching Sans.

“Now, I’m sure you know, the _one and only_ Napstabot will be up as soon as he gets here--” --Sans pauses to let the excited cheers die down-- “--so to warm up my act and prepare you for _his,_ I’m gonna test out your guys’ participation skills. Let’s see here…”

Sans lightly knocks the microphone against his chest, which, against the layers of clothing and his ribs, sounds passably like a knock at the door.

“Knock knock,” he starts, with a cheesy grin on his face.

Papyrus doesn’t expect the audience to respond, but he hears a couple “Who’s there?” responses from pockets of the crowd.

“Old lady.”

“Old lady who…?”

Sans’ grin widens.

“Heyyy, we have some yodelers in the crowd tonight!”

Papyrus has to choke back a laugh, and hears others in the crowd also laugh, but there are several loud groans, as well.

“For those of you that laughed, I’m glad to see you can easily see what’s _humerus,_ ” Sans grins, purposely sticking his elbow out to the side. “And for those of you who groaned, don’t you worry -- I promise to only _patella_ good stories from here on out.”

“ _That wasn’t funny!_ ”

Papyrus flicks his eyes out to the crowd, but Sans has already fixed his gaze on the heckler, and his smile widens until the corners of his mouth are dimpled.

“Someone here’s trying to pick a bone with a skeleton!” he chuckles, wagging a finger at the monster in the crowd. “‘Well lemme tell ya, pal, I’ve got two hundred and six to choose from, but don’t you think you can just pick and choose which one you want -- I’m a package deal. So fair warning for the future -- if you can’t handle the whole thing, then maybe you should be careful about the fights you pick with skeletons…”

Sans winks as he trails off, reveling in the laughs from the crowd. Papyrus, for his part, watches the offending monster slink further and further down into his seat until just their single eye peers over the edge of the table.

“I’m gonna throw the poor guy a bone, here, though,” the smaller skeleton finally continues, eliciting a few more chuckles from the crowd. “If I told that little spiel to my little bro, he’d _totally lose it._ Like, heckling is nothing, my bro would go full-out _nuts,_ like--”

Sans clears his throat, and when he speaks into the microphone again, he holds it further away from his mouth.

“‘ _Sans!’_ ” he barks, faking anger. “‘ _Are puns the only thing you care about?! This is no joking matter!’_ ”

Papyrus recognizes the impression from a few nights ago, and feels something uncomfortable start to claw up from his stomach.

“‘Gee, bro, I don’t know what you’re talking about,’” Sans continues, with a wide grin. “‘If my puns are the problem, then it sure _sounds_ like it would be a joking matter to me.’”

The crowd laughs, fairly unanimously, but Papyrus doesn’t see the cheesy smile on Sans’ face widen at the reaction. Instead, he leans over the table, holding up his head with one hand as he stares into his drink.

 _“..._ _s’why, I, uh, I can’t… understand. I don’t get why…”_

“...built his own sentry station, and the whole thing is held together with _rotini pasta._ Crazy, right…? Yeah, he likes to say his whole station is made from _cardboardhydrates._ ”

Over the din of raucous laughter, Papyrus massages his forehead before taking a drink, trying to push the memories of Sans’ reactions from that night further out of his mind with no success.

“Half the time, I don’t think he even realizes how good he is at bad jokes, himself,” Sans chuckles into the microphone, and Papyrus can hear the smile in his words. “Or at least, he won’t really acknowledge his talent, heh. One of his, uh, ‘friends,’ they called him while they were wandering through Waterfall, and, well…”

 _“Pap, he’s, he’s so nice -- he’s_ **_too_ ** _nice to people sometimes, but he, he_ **_means it, all_ ** _the time--”_

“...they call him, and he says, ‘ _I know why you called. My brother said I’m always a good friend…’_ ”

 _“I can’t even keep track anymore, but Pap keeps_ **_welcoming_ ** _them with, with open arms, and I can’t make him see that he’s gonna get--”_

“ _‘...when people are down in the dumps!’_ ”

He wants to laugh with everyone else, and maybe if he hadn’t had the conversation he did with Sans, he’d find it in himself to at least chuckle. But Papyrus can’t shake it from his mind -- not what Sans had said just before stepping away, and _definitely_ not what he’d revealed a few nights before.

Papyrus hopes that Sans doesn’t look over at him as he finishes his drink, and silently signals to the waiter for a second round.

* * *

“I’unno, I think that, uh, that went pretty well, heh…”

Sans can’t suppress a giggle as he slumps against the door to their hotel room, his face flushed blue from the alcohol.

“Careful, kiddo,” Papyrus warns, but he has to tilt his own head back to make sure that he’s holding the key card. “Don’t want you to fall in when I open the door, after all, so…”

“Right, right right…”

Sans dramatically raises one hand, then awkwardly reaches out to grab onto Papyrus’ hoodie sleeve, his fingers curling tightly into the bright orange fabric.

“There,” he announces with a strangely triumphant tone, and fixes Papyrus with an impossibly wide smile. “Now if I fall, at least I won’t be fallin’ by myself, heh.”

Something about the way Sans grabs onto him and the grin on his face makes Papyrus’ own face light up in a smile, and he chuckles as he unlocks the door, stumbling into the room with the smaller skeleton.

The soft blue glow of the lights is just enough to illuminate the room, and in their current state, Papyrus is grateful they forgot to turn them off on their way down earlier as he guides Sans over to the bed.

“Was real nice of the, uh, the...” Sans starts, frowning as he tries to get the words out in the right order. “...nice of the club to cover our tab, heh. Now if they, uh, if they only covered the room too, we’d be golden.”

“Don’t wanna push our luck _too_ much, kiddo,” Papyrus says, holding up an index finger in front of Sans’ face. “If we drank _this_ much without 'em coverin’ the tab, I’m, uh… I’m pretty sure we pretty much woulda paid for two rooms.”

“Whaaat? _Naaah,_ we didn’t drink _that_ much. ...did we?”

“Hell if I know for sure,” Papyrus shrugs, and a goofy grin creeps to his face. “I mean, not like we, uh… had to worry about the tab in the end, yeah?”

Sans giggles, covering his mouth as he falls backward to lie on the bed. Papyrus follows suit, his face pulled into a wider smile than he’s had in a long time as he looks over at Sans, and reaches over to tap his fingers against Sans’ shoulder.

“Hmm? Yeees?” the smaller skeleton asks, his words a loopy drawl as he rolls his head over to look at Papyrus. “Can I help you?”

“Just wanted to say, uh,” Papyrus begins, his mind hazily fumbling for the right words. “I was worried ‘bout you up there. ‘Cause you, uh, got to talkin’ ‘bout your brother. But… y’looked like you had fun on stage, in the end. Crowd loved ya, that’s for sure, heh.”

“‘Course they loved me,” Sans declares, grinning widely. “Who _wouldn’t_ love cool stories about the best monster ever? ‘Sides…”

“Hm?”

Sans pauses for a moment, then rolls over onto his side, curling up a little closer to Papyrus.

“...was kinda nice, y’know,” he continues with a half-hearted shrug. “Remembering, uh, the good timelines, I mean. S’hard to, uh… hard to do sometimes.”

Papyrus doesn’t hear the note of sadness in Sans’ voice that usually accompanies any talk about his brother, but he still rolls onto his side as well, hesitating for a moment before putting a hand on the other skeleton’s shoulder.

“I mean… I don't, uh, don't think I could do a… another show just ‘bout him,” Sans continues, his voice unchanged even though Papyrus can see him visibly relax under the soft touch. “Would start to pull up bad thoughts, and b’sides -- no good come… comedian does the same show twice, yeah? Gets old pretty fast if you do that, heh. Learned that a long time ago.”

“What kinda stuff you like to do shows about?” Papyrus asks, propping his head up on his free hand as the other softly rubs Sans’ shoulder.

“Uh… all kinds of stuff, really,” the smaller skeleton replies, lazily scooting a little closer to Papyrus. “Mostly, uh, mostly ‘bout the people in the Underground… sometimes places. Can always pad it with bad jokes, heh. Not like there's any other kind, right?”

Papyrus smiles, letting his hand shift to rest gently along Sans’ ribs, outside his hoodie.

“Would’ve liked to see that,” he admits, unable to keep the warmth out of his voice. “Kinda hard for you t’do a show ‘bout a place or people you barely know.”

“Mm… give it time, yeah? M’sure I'll get to know this place well enough to joke about here, too, heh.”

“Mmh…? Woulda thought you'd try not to get too attached, kiddo.”

Sans sighs, looking up at Papyrus with lazy exasperation.

“Look, _buddy,_ ” he begins, placing heavy emphasis on the nickname for no apparent reason. “I’m, uh, not sure how long I’m gonna be here, yeah…? So, there’s, uh… no real reason for me t’not at least… _try_ to make a place for m’self in this world, yeah? Doesn’t mean I hafta _like_ it, nece… cessa…”

“Necessarily?” Papyrus suggests, with almost as much difficulty as Sans.

“That one. Doesn’t mean I hafta like it, but… no point in bein’ more miserable than I already am, heh. ’Sides…”

Sans pauses, then scoots closer to Papyrus.

“...I already got, uh… a little attached on accident, heh.”

Papyrus blinks, as though not recognizing that Sans’ head is now nestled under his chin, that the other skeleton is now loosely grabbing onto his hoodie, that his own hand is now resting over Sans’ spine and pulling him in and that, most importantly, _did he just mean--?_

“K-Kiddo, you, uh…” he fumbles, mind slowly starting to catch up. “Are you, uh… I-I mean, I just, y’know, wanna… wanna make sure--”

“ _Jeez,_ and I thought _I_ was drunk, heh. Lemme, uh, lemme spell it out for you…”

And before Papyrus can ask Sans what he means, the smaller skeleton is on him, head propped up in his hands as he grins down at the taller skeleton, idly kicking his legs in the air.

“Clear enough for ya, bud?” Sans hums, and Papyrus is fairly sure he’s reveling in his shocked expression. “I can, uh, make it a lil’ more obvious for you, if you want…”

For a moment, Papyrus has to fumble with his thoughts, trying to figure out how to react to -- to _this,_ to _Sans,_ to the fact that he still can’t believe this isn't just another one of his dreams, that Sans is really on top of him, and--

It takes a few moments for his mind to calm down enough for him to carefully rest his hands on Sans’ ribcage.

“I think… that might not, uh… be a bad idea,” he finally speaks, swallowing nervously at the end of his words.

Sans chuckles, then leans in, lightly clicking his teeth against Papyrus’. Through the rush of magic that suddenly floods his bones, Papyrus feels Sans curl his hands in his thick orange hoodie, feels the smaller skeleton shift softly against him with a quiet groan.

He shudders, then carefully grabs hold of Sans’ shirt under his hoodie, a low groan of his own escaping him as he pulls the other skeleton more firmly against him.

“Mmh~ Papyrus…”

Sans whines softly against Papyrus’ teeth, his hands sliding up to pull at the neckline of the other's orange hoodie. Before he can fully process what Sans is doing, he feels the smaller skeleton’s fingers tracing over the vertebrae of his neck, dipping into the space between each bone and rubbing gently.

“S-Sans,” Papyrus groans, his fingers accidentally pressing into the gaps between Sans’ ribs as he shifts beneath the smaller skeleton. “God, _Sans,_ I--”

“ _Hnnh!_ Pa- _Papyrus,_ that…!”

He feels Sans shudder hard against him and freezes, fingers still slipped in the spaces of Sans’ lower ribs as he looks up at the smaller skeleton. But instead of the look of revulsion he expects, Papyrus sees Sans looking back with wide eyes, face tinged blue as a soft, shaky breath escapes him.

“S-Sorry,” Papyrus stutters after a moment, finally removing his hands from Sans’ ribcage. “Sorry, that wasn't -- I-I should've been more, uh, more--”

Papyrus stops mid-thought as Sans reaches up, none too gently placing a hand over his mouth.

“D… do that again,” he murmurs, his other hand slipping down to softly hook over Papyrus’ collarbone.

“S-Sans…?”

“P… _Please_ do that again,” Sans repeats, and Papyrus can hear the edge of desire in his voice through the soft slur. “F-Felt… that felt--”

“Are you sure…?” Papyrus asks, voice muffled from behind Sans’ hand as he barely dares to open his mouth. “Y-You, uh… you're, _we're_ drunk, I don't want to, to do anything you're not--”

“ _Papyrus,_ ” Sans interrupts, whining softly. “ _Please._ ”

Papyrus swallows, and after a moment's hesitation, places his hands on Sans’ ribs once more, his fingers sliding into the spaces between the smaller skeleton’s ribs and stroking gently.

Sans’ face twists as a low whimper escapes him, and as he shudders against Papyrus, his hand pushes against the taller skeleton’s face, thumb pressing past Papyrus’ teeth and slipping into his mouth.

“F-Fuck, _Sans…_ ” Papyrus groans, his fingers nearly hooking over the smaller skeleton’s ribs through his thin shirt as he traces his tongue over the thumb in his mouth. “Are you, are you _sure--_ ”

“Just keep _doing that,_ ” Sans moans, pressing his face into Papyrus’ hoodie to try and muffle the sound. “Just… _please,_ just _keep_ doing that, _nnnh…_ ”

The need in Sans’ voice sends a shiver up Papyrus’ spine, and without thinking, he tightens his hold on the smaller skeleton before rolling over, leaning over him in between Sans’ legs.

“P-Papyrus--?”

“You… you want me to keeping doing that?” Papyrus mumbles, briefly pinning Sans’ hand between his cheek and shoulder as he pushes Sans’ hoodie open. “Then… I wanna see the faces you make while I do it. Sound fair…?”

Sans blinks, and Papyrus can hear his soft, ragged breathing, but the smaller skeleton nods shakily as he traces his thumb over the ridges of Papyrus’ teeth.

“ _Good,_ ” Papyrus growls softly, biting gently at Sans’ thumb as he pushes the white shirt up, his fingers lacing through the other's lower ribs.

“Hhh- _hnnhh--!!_ ”

Sans clenches his teeth, but he can't stop his needy whine from escaping as his back arches under Papyrus’ rough touch. His face flushes blue as his free hand grabs at the blankets underneath him, fingers digging into the black fabric of the comforter; Papyrus runs his tongue over the thumb between his teeth, his fingers curling under to caress the inside of Sans’ ribs.

“P-Papyrus,” Sans gasps, his head rolling back. “Hh _hhh, Papyrus--_ ”

“ _God,_ if you could _see_ the look on your face right now,” Papyrus groans, using his shoulder to rub Sans’ pinned hand against his cheek. “Fuck, _Sans…_ ”

The stifled sound that comes out of Sans is not quite a moan, and Papyrus feels him weakly pull his hand free from his mouth.

“Nnh, Sans--”

“H-Hold on,” Sans gasps, shakily placing his hands over Papyrus’ for a moment. “Don't -- don't stop, but just -- hold on…”

Eager as he is to coax a reaction out of the smaller skeleton, Papyrus softens his touch, watching as Sans fumbles with the scarf around his neck. It isn't long before he's untied it, and -- after carefully bundling up the red fabric in a ball -- he tosses it to the side before he looks back up at Papyrus.

“There,” he chuckles softly, noticing the confusion on Papyrus’ face. “In case you, uh… wanted s-something else to do besides, um… just look at me, heh.”

Papyrus feels his eyes flick from Sans’ glowing blue face to his neck, then back as as a small rush of magic surges through him.

“...S’a pretty big offer to make,” he murmurs, letting one hand slide further up Sans’ ribcage as he tries to keep his voice level. “You sure you're okay with it, kiddo…?”

“Didn't you already ask that…?” Sans can't help but laugh, reaching to grab at Papyrus’ hoodie. “Look, it's -- s’there if you want it, but just… at least keep doing what you were before, yeah…? Please…”

Papyrus shivers at the small, pleading note in Sans’ voice, and, as his fingers trace over the ridges where Sans’ ribs meet his sternum, he leans in close, hesitating before he softly bites at Sans’ neck.

There’s nothing for his teeth to sink into, and he isn’t sure why he expected otherwise; but he also doesn’t expect Sans to gasp quite the way he does, to squirm beneath him as a low, drawn-out moan escapes him. Papyrus shudders as he feels Sans moving beneath him, slips his fingers into Sans’ ribs, and presses his tongue against the vertebrae.

“Ha- _aanh,_ Pa -- _Papyrus--!_ ”

Papyrus feels Sans arch against him, feels Sans pressing up against him through the thick fabric of his hoodie, and hears his moan clearer than anything he’s imagined, anything he’s _dreamed,_ and--

“ _Fuck,_ ” Papyrus moans against Sans’ neck, shuddering hard. “ _Fuck,_ Sans, your _voice,_ it makes me wanna--”

“Stop _talking,_ ” Sans groans, hands reaching around to claw at Papyrus’ back, “and just _do it, whatever_ you want, I don’t -- don’t _care,_ just don’t _stop, please--_ ”

Papyrus feels Sans’ fingers trying to push into the spaces between his ribs, and shudders before letting go of Sans. Before the smaller skeleton can complain, he shimmies out of his thick orange hoodie, tossing it away from them both as he leans back over Sans, breathing shakily.

“P-Papyrus, why -- why’d you--”

Sans’ protest dies on his teeth, replaced by a small, shuddering gasp, and he grabs at Papyrus’ ribs through the thin black tank top.

“You said whatever I want…?” the taller skeleton murmurs, voice thick with desire as he runs a hand over Sans’ femur. “I… wanna make sure you meant it, before I… ‘cause, I…”

Papyrus swallows, lets out a small, shaky breath, and hooks Sans’ leg over his hip before placing both hands on the other’s face.

“I… I want you, Sans,” he finally admits, rubbing his thumbs over Sans’ cheekbones. “But I, I don’t wanna do anything you -- that you’re not okay with, s-so if this is--”

“ _Papyrus._ ”

Papyrus’ breath hitches in his throat as he feels Sans’ fingers curl loosely around the back of his ribs, and the smaller skeleton shifts his other leg to wrap around his hips.

“Whatever it is you wanna do,” Sans says, his own breathing unsteady, “just… _do it. Please._ ”

Papyrus shivers, then nods slowly, his hands slipping down to grab at the blanket as he rocks his hips against Sans’.

“O-oh, f-ff _fuck, Papyrus--_ ”

He freezes for just a moment as his name slips out of Sans’ mouth -- but Sans’ head is rolled back, and his words are laced with a drawn-out, shuddering moan that seems to resonate through his body. And Papyrus himself can't help but groan loudly in response, pleasure shooting through his body as he presses against Sans, harder this time, grinding against the smaller skeleton until the elastic band of his shorts slowly inch down his hips.

“P-Papyrus,” Sans moans, his legs curling up and pulling the taller skeleton’s hips in harder against his own. “God, fuck _,_ _Papyrus, this is--_ ”

“Fuck, _Sans,_ ” Papyrus shudders,  gripping the blankets alongside Sans’ head as he rocks harder into the smaller skeleton. “Y-You keep doing that, I’m not gonna be able to--”

“Isn't that the _point?_ ”

Between Sans’ breathless interruption and the sensation of hands sliding down his spine to slip under his shirt, Papyrus can't help but shiver -- but then he sees Sans looking up at him with half-lidded eyes, feels those hands rubbing against the crest of his hips, that lazy grin that only fits on Sans’ face, everything like his dreams, _better_ , better and now and _real--_

Papyrus presses his teeth hard against Sans’, pushing his entire body against the smaller skeleton as he grinds down into him, _hard,_ pushing Sans down into the mattress with his body.

“Aaa _aafffuck, Papyrus--!!_ P-Please, I'm, I'm gonna, g-gonna c--!!”

He feels Sans’ legs curl tightly around his hips, holding in him tight as though Papyrus needs convincing to stay; Papyrus moans against Sans’ teeth, pushing harder against the exposed bone of Sans’ pelvis, rocking against him until--

Papyrus comes first, with a loud moan as he very nearly collapses on top of the smaller skeleton beneath him. Sans is quieter, at least to start -- but as he arches into Papyrus, shuddering hard, his bones start a soft rattle that persists for several long moments after he collapses back into the mattress, breathing heavily.

He can't keep himself propped up anymore, and Papyrus carefully lays himself alongside Sans, his own haggard breathing not quite in time with the smaller skeleton’s.

“Hey there,” Papyrus murmurs, tiredly placing a hand on Sans’ shoulder and rubbing gently. “You alright, kiddo…?”

For a few moments longer, Sans is silent, his breathing slowing to its usual pace.

“...Sans…?”

“Th-That's, uh…”

Sans stutters briefly, then inhales deeply before turning his head to look Papyrus in the eye.

“...S’one way to, uh, to say ‘I like you,’ I guess,” he finally chuckles, rolling on his side to face the taller skeleton.

Papyrus can't help but laugh, and the hand that had been on Sans’ shoulder gently pulls the smaller skeleton in. His lazy smile widening, Sans scoots closer, shuffling under Papyrus’ hand until it's an arm draped gently over him, the taller skeleton’s fingers brushing softly over his spine.

“Man,” Sans finally sighs, the words a soft breath passing through his teeth. “That was… _man_. Not, uh… not what I was expecting, but…”

“...you, uh… alright with what happened…?” Papyrus asks quietly, rubbing his hand over Sans’ spine. “...little late _now_ to be asking, but, uh…”

As he trails off, Sans chuckles, and presses himself more into the curve of Papyrus’ body.

“For someone who got told to go ahead,” he murmurs lazily, closing his eyes, “you sure like to ask for an awful lot of permission, heh.”

Papyrus blinks, then smiles softly, and uses his free arm to pull Sans in close enough to click his teeth against the other's forehead. Sans smiles, and a small sound almost hums out of his throat before Papyrus feels the smaller skeleton readily settle into sleep.

Without his hoodie, the room is almost too cold for Papyrus. But Sans’ slow breathing against him is soothing, so Papyrus reaches back with one hand, pulling the covers from the head of the bed over them both.

Even in his sleep, Sans lets out a small, contented sound, and Papyrus holds him close as he finally drifts off himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My first time writing any kind of smut, sin, whatever you want to call it, so I'm not surprised it took as long as it did. Oh boy.


	17. The Next Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing really explicit but some references to the fun part of chapter 16.

Papyrus wakes up to the dull, persistent throb of his head pounding and the sensation of someone pressing softly into him, arms wrapped loosely around his lower ribs. With a low groan, he scrunches his eyes even tighter, as though trying to will himself back to sleep -- or at least to will the headache away, if nothing else.

When that doesn’t work, he breathes out heavily through his nasal cavity, slumping into the mattress but still not opening his eyes as his arms wrap a little tighter around the person against him.

The memories of last night start drifting back to Papyrus, like indistinct shapes in a fog. It’s been a long time since he’s gotten so drunk -- well before his brother wanting to join the Royal Guard -- but despite the alcohol, he vaguely recalls Sans performing at Club NTT last night; them coming back to the room, talking about Sans’ brother… Sans rolling onto him, and…

Papyrus’ eyes snap open, and he looks down.

Sans’ face is pressed into his chest, only separated from Papyrus’ ribs by the thin material of the black tank top he’s still wearing. He's still wrapped up in his blue hoodie, but even from this angle, Papyrus can see his black shorts are pushed further down his hips than Sans normally wears them. 

“...Sans…?”

His voice is a hoarse croak, and his throat burns at even trying just to say that much. But at the sound of his voice, Sans shifts, softly pushing himself a little more into Papyrus’ arms before settling quietly back into sleep once more.

Papyrus breathes in deeply, letting the air escape him in a long, low exhale, and closes his eyes as he pushes his head back into the mattress with a soft groan. With the hand draped over Sans’ side, he finally rubs the sleep from his eyes before dropping his hand above his head, as though trying to slowly separate himself from the smaller skeleton.

The longer he’s awake, the sharper the memories from last night come into focus; as carefully as he can, he rolls away from Sans, but leaves his other arm pinned underneath the other skeleton.

For all his dreams about Sans,  _ this _ was not how he’d expected to wake up.

With a low sigh, Papyrus carefully tries to slip his arm out from underneath Sans without disturbing him. He's almost succeeded, arm free all the way down to his wrist, when a sharp knock at the door catches his attention, and he looks up in surprise. 

“Housekeeping!”

“N-No thanks!” Papyrus tries to call out, but his throat still burns when he speaks. Worse still, he hears Sans let out a small groan, and feels him trying to press back into a body that's no longer there. 

_ Don't wake up, kiddo, not yet, I just need some time to-- _

Papyrus hears the door opening, and a moment later, sees a blue, bipedal rabbit in the hallway, one hand on an oversized cleaning cart. 

“Oh, sorry!” the rabbit apologizes, but his tone is jovial as he holds up one hand apologetically. “So sorry. I didn't hear that there was someone in here, and--”

Beside him, Sans squirms, and Papyrus sees the smaller skeleton grumpily pull his hood over his head.

“Go ‘way…” he grumbles, pushing his face into the thick black comforter. “ _ Sleep. _ ”

Papyrus sighs, rubbing his face. 

“Would you mind coming back later?” he asks, clearing his throat so that it hurts less to speak. “We, uh, kinda stayed up late, so…”

“Of course! Of course,” the rabbit nods, backing back out into the hall once more. “Sorry again!”

Papyrus winces a bit as the door slams shut -- likely on accident, but it's still loud enough for Sans to let out an agitated growl as he rolls over to lay on his stomach, hands covering where his ears would be. 

“Sorry, kiddo,” Papyrus murmurs as soft as he can, but he hesitates before putting a hand on Sans’ shoulder. “You… uh, you want anything--?”

“ _ Sleep. Please. _ ”

Papyrus withdraws his hand, letting Sans lay on the bed in peace. It isn't long before he sees the smaller smaller skeleton’s chest rise and fall slowly with an even breath, and watches as his hands slowly uncurl from the balled-up fists they'd been a few minutes ago. 

He sighs, and carefully pushes himself out of bed, pausing for a moment as a rush of nausea swarms over him momentarily. 

At least now, despite Sans nearly waking up, he has some time to be alone with his thoughts. Hands rubbing at the circles under his eyes, Papyrus shuffles over to his hoodie on the ground, snatching it up and shimmying back into it. His hands slide easily into the pocket, and he curls his fingers around the pack of cigarettes.

Yes, now would  _ definitely _ be the time for a smoke. Papyrus slinks quietly into the bathroom, flicks on the soft teal lights, and quietly closes the door behind him before turning on the vent. 

It’s still a little louder than he expected, but Papyrus just hopes Sans continues being a heavy sleeper as he fishes a cigarette out from the pack, along with his lighter. With a single flick, he lights the end of the cigarette, then brings it up to his teeth, biting down and inhaling deeply. 

The smoke fills his chest, and Papyrus holds it for several seconds before breathing out, the white cloud wisping away in the ventilation fan in the ceiling. With a sigh, he leans against the wall, sliding down to the floor as he continues smoking. 

He expected his thoughts to drift back to what happened last night, but not quite as quickly as they do; the memory of Sans rolling onto him, feeling the soft weight of his body sinking into him before pressing his teeth to--

Papyrus nearly coughs on his cigarette, but manages to catch his breath before that happens, instead just taking a deeper drag than intended. The smoke barely calms him down, just enough to push the memory out of his mind -- just enough for him to to think of it in a different light than just remembering the feeling.

After a moment, the edges of the memory creep back, not quite strong enough to catch him by surprise -- but enough to remember the drunken haze, that he'd reached out to put a hand on Sans’ shoulder… that it was Sans who'd shifted closer, and Sans who'd rolled on top of him. 

Papyrus can still almost see that lazy grin on the smaller skeleton’s face before he'd leaned in to kiss him, and tries to forget the feeling of Sans’ teeth pressed softly against his own. Failing miserably, he settles for taking another long drag of his cigarette -- only to find he's already burnt this one down to the filter. Papyrus sighs as though he wasn't already planning on chain-smoking this morning, and pulls out another cigarette, lighting it up before he's even taken the first filter out of his teeth.

This is nothing like how he'd hoped it would go… if it was ever going to “go” at all. His dreams aside, all he'd hoped for was to be able to hold Sans close and fall asleep on the couch with him. Not necessarily to lean over him, to feel those legs wrapped tight around his hips, to hear Sans’ moans get louder as he rocks harder into him--

“ _ Shit! _ ”

The cigarette falls out from between his teeth, and Papyrus curses as the lit end hits the hand resting on his lap. Instinctively, he swats it away, then curses again as it rolls across the tile floor to the far end of the room.

He's not so keen for another smoke as to chase after it and put the cigarette back in his mouth, so instead he sighs, pushing his face into his hands.

For only the briefest of moments, Papyrus wonders if he can get away with not telling Sans about what happened last night… especially given how he didn't seem to remember the last time they drank. But the thought hasn't even fully formed in his head before he shuts it down, pinching one of the processes of his vertebrae to chase the idea out completely. 

_ You're better than that, _ he chides himself, wincing a bit at the pain from his self-inflicted injury.  _ You're better than lying to him to cover up your own shame. Even if you didn't like him… he deserves to know the truth.  _

Something in Papyrus’ chest tells him that Sans won't make it so easy for him to admit what happened, but Papyrus just chuckles as he lets his head rest against the smooth tile wall. 

“Not like I deserve to have this be easy for me,” he mutters, then reaches into his pocket for a fresh cigarette.

* * *

“ _ Hmm hm hm… _ ”

Papyrus drums his fingers nervously against the stuffed duffel bag, glancing silently over at Sans. 

If Sans remembers last night, he's done a damn good job of hiding it. Their trip to Hotland market had been surprisingly nonchalant, with Sans picking out significantly more ingredients and less junk food than Papyrus was expecting; even their stop to the lab had been less of an ordeal than he anticipated -- though Papyrus was just as intrigued as Sans at Undyne’s mention of a “possible lead.”

But now they're alone on the boat, and as Sans quietly swings his legs over the side of the boat, Papyrus can't help but notice that they're close, maybe a little closer than he'd expect, and he's not sure if he's overthinking the way Sans seems to be shifting over, just a bit--

Papyrus takes a slow, deep breath, and wishes he hadn't finished the last of his pack earlier this morning. 

“Hey, Papyrus.”

It's the first time Sans has spoken since they left the lab, and Papyrus has to stop himself from jumping out of his imaginary skin. 

“Yeah, kiddo?” he finally forces out, and he's not entirely convinced his voice is casual. “What's up?”

“Just, uh, wanted to say,” Sans starts, shrugging a bit. “This was… I had a good time, coming out here. It was a… nice change of pace, heh. Thanks.”

Papyrus sees the soft, easy smile on the smaller skeleton’s face, and as he smiles back, he has to pinch his femur to keep last night's memories from resurfacing with a vengeance. 

“Yeah… no problem, kid,” he chuckles softly, trying to relax. “Thought you could use a break from the same-old, same-old. Glad to see I was right, heh.”

Sans makes a small, contented sound to match his smile, then looks back out to the water, still swinging his legs.

A low, slow breath slowly escapes Papyrus as he lets himself finally relax.

He knows there should be nothing “relieving” about Sans not remembering what happened the night before, except that maybe, for once, Papyrus has figured out how to read Sans.

* * *

“ _ Sheesh, _ that was a  _ long _ ride home this time. You think we just sailed in a big circle before they dropped us back off in Snowdin?”

Papyrus chuckles as he leans into the door to open it, and he and Sans both stumble into the somewhat chilly house. 

“I was thinking the same thing, kiddo,” the taller skeleton says with a small shrug. “But hey, we finally made it back, yeah? That's what matters.”

“And just in time to catch more quality Napstabot television,” Sans nods, his easy grin widening. “S’like we never left Hotland, heh.”

Papyrus chuckles as Sans saunters over to the couch, collapsing onto it with a dramatic sigh. 

“Lemme just put this stuff away,” he says, tapping his fingers against the duffel bag slung over his shoulder, “and I'll be right there. Alright? Save a space for me, at least.”

“I dunno, buddy, this couch is pretty comfy where I am right now…”

Papyrus rolls his eyes, but the soft grin still lingers on his face even as he strolls into the kitchen, dropping his bag on the counter.

His smile falls as he starts unpacking, mind already thinking of ways to even broach the topic of…  _ last night _ . That Sans didn't remember meant they wouldn't  _ both _ be reliving the events in intimate detail, at least -- but even with that “consolation,” Papyrus is already struggling to keep his thoughts from veering too far into  _ feeling. _

He sighs, then opens the fridge, tossing out some two weeks’ worth of leftovers to make room for the food they picked up earlier today. 

“Oh, hey, I almost forgot,” Sans calls from the other room, over the din of the television. “I wanted to ask you something, buddy.”

Papyrus pauses, then tosses the leftover containers in the trash, pushing them down a bit for good measure. 

“What is it, kiddo?” he asks, quickly going back to stocking the fridge.

“When were you, uh… gonna talk to me about what we did last night?”

He freezes, but not before nearly dropping the carton of eggs all over the floor.

“Wh… what're you talking about?” Papyrus finally asks, but not before swallowing and having to motion out the sound of the words first. “You, uh, can you be a little more specific?”

“Well, y'know… last night. When we, uh…”

He isn't sure if Sans is trailing off, or if it's his panic messing with his hearing, but eventually Papyrus hears the end of that sentence:

“...when we, uh… we fucked?”

Papyrus isn't sure how long he's spent standing in the kitchen, but when he finally comes back to his senses, his hands are already going through the motion of lighting up the cigarette he doesn't have. 

“...Papyrus?”

“Y-Yeah, I -- I'm here,” he finally chokes out, reaching for the drawer to pull out a new pack of cigarettes. “Just… gimme a minute, ki--Sans. Just… gimme a minute.”

Papyrus breaks the seal on his new pack, and quickly flips it open with shaking fingers. He slides one cigarette up, pinching the filter between his teeth as his free hand fumbles for his lighter. It takes a few tries, but the lighter finally ignites, and he brings the flame to his cigarette, breathing in deep the moment it catches. 

_ He knew. _

Papyrus burns through half the cigarette before the nicotine finally has an effect on his nerves; it's not much, but enough to face the idea of going back out to the living room. To have this talk, with…

He's not ready, but he can't push it off much longer. After another long drag, he ashes out the cigarette on the counter, and starts lighting up another as he finally pushes himself to the living room. 

Sans is sitting up now, a little straighter than Papyrus is used to seeing, but his sockets are fixed on the taller skeleton the moment he steps into the living room. Right now, there's nowhere he'd rather be than  _ anywhere else _ , but Papyrus shuffles over to the couch, putting a hand on the armrest to lower himself down.

“...just when I think I've figured out how to read you,” he mutters, breathing out a cloud of white smoke. “You're, uh… pretty damn good at keeping things bottled up, kid.”

“I've, uh, had some time to practice.”

It shouldn't be funny, but Papyrus snorts anyway, tapping the ashes off the end of his cigarette. 

“...I thought you didn’t, uh… remember last night,” he finally admits, leaning back to sink into the couch cushions. “So I didn’t, y’know… want to make things awkward for  _ both _ of us this morning? I was gonna… wait ‘til we got more settled in tonight to bring it up, but, uh… you kinda beat me to the punch, heh.”

“Yeah, I, uh… you didn’t do a very good job of, uh, hiding that there was something buggin’ ya, but… I didn’t really wanna push it either, heh. ...guess we both suck at dealing with… this kinda stuff, huh?”

Sans lets out a small chuckle, and Papyrus can’t help crack a small smile himself before he pinches the end of his cigarette. But silence quickly settles over them both once more, to the point where even the low murmur from the television seems almost deafening.

“...so, uh… y’know, I… gotta know, at this point,” Sans finally continues, but Papyrus watches as the smaller skeleton looks away. “How long have you… I mean, I -- I knew you were, uh, pretty soft to me, I just… didn’t really realize it was, uh…  _ that _ kind of soft, heh. So, uh, how long has it… been that way, I guess?”

Papyrus twirls the butt of his cigarette in his fingers, examining it carefully before finally flicking it towards the television.

“Yeah, I’ve… had a soft spot for you for a while,” he admits quietly. “But, uh,  _ this _ kind of a soft spot? This is, uh… it’s a pretty recent development. I, um… didn’t say anything because, well, you…”

He knows he’s already too deep into the thought now to back out, but as Sans turns to look at him again, Papyrus wishes he hadn’t kept going.

“...even if I, uh, thought you’d return the… the sentiment,” he continues, now fumbling for his words, “I know you have… well… more important priorities. ...like going home.”

“...yeah.”

He wants to look away, but Papyrus can’t help but notice the way Sans’ hands quietly grab at his own sleeves, fingers curling into the dark blue fabric.

“Sorry,” he finally sighs, rubbing at his jaw as he glances away. “I’m, uh, pretty good at making things… problematic, heh. Shoulda just--”

“Well, I mean… what’s… what’s the problem?”

“...what?”

Papyrus can’t help but stare at Sans once more, noticing that the smaller skeleton seems to be fidgeting where he sits.

“Well, I mean,” Sans continues, and Papyrus can hear him searching for the right words. “You, uh, you hit the nail on the head -- as soon as I find a way outta here, I’m, y’know, I’m  _ gone. _ But… I dunno how far away that day is, yeah? So if, um…”

He reaches up to rub the back of his head, and almost deflates a little as a heavy sigh finally escapes him.

“...if you’re cool with, uh… keeping this… ‘casual,’ and, uh -- not, y’know, expecting a lot out of me, then… I don’t, uh, mind… keeping…  _ whatever _ this is… um, going.”

Sans briefly glances out the corner of his eyesocket at Papyrus, then turns to stare.

“...was that, uh… not the… right thing to say?”

Papyrus realizes he must be gawking, and quickly sits up a little straighter, shaking his head.

“N-no, it -- that’s fine, it’s… that’s fine,” he answers, stumbling over his words. “I just, it… it wasn’t what I… expected to hear.”

The look of concern doesn’t really fade from Sans’ eyes, but Papyrus notices the corners of his mouth twitching softly up into a nervous smile.

“What, uh… what were you expecting there, bud?” he asks, the faint traces of a chuckle tinging his words.

“To, uh, to be honest…?” Papyrus says, unable to keep the laugh out of his own voice. “I thought you’d, uh -- that you’d call me a freak and storm out, heh. Or at least stop talking to me. Wouldn't, uh, wouldn't have blamed you, either. Can’t, uh -- I can’t say I expected you to be, um… okay… with this…? Let alone, uh...”

He laughs a little, still nervous, but then swallows hard before looking Sans in the eye.

“...you…  _ are _ actually  _ okay _ with that… yeah?” Papyrus asks, voice cracking a little. “I don’t want you saying you’re -- that you’re okay with something that you’re really not, alright? I -- even if I wasn’t soft for you, kiddo, I still… I still  _ care _ about you, so… so--”

He stops as Sans chuckles, a real chuckle, and the smaller skeleton’s mouth pulls into a natural smile.

“You  _ really _ like to make sure I mean what I say, don’t you?” Sans teases, his eyes lighting up a little brighter than usual. “Look, I, uh… I wouldn’t have, uh, suggested it if I didn’t… think I could trust you. I’m not one for putting ideas like that into the heads of monsters I don’t like, heh. Just… don't forget that I already know what's  _ always _ gonna be more important to me, alright? ...it's, y’know… nothing personal.”

Sans’ smile doesn't fall, but Papyrus can see where it starts to tighten in the corners.

“Kiddo, I… you don't have to worry about that,” he assures, pausing for a moment as he wrings his hands. “To tell the truth, I… didn't say anything when I first, uh, started feeling this way about you ‘cause I… didn't want to make you think I was asking you to stay. ...I didn't want you to think I was making you choose between, well… between me and your brother. I wouldn’t do that to you, Sans.”

He watches as Sans looks away, tucking his chin into the red scarf around his neck. 

“...thanks, Papyrus,” he murmurs quietly. “...I, uh… I appreciate it.”

Papyrus dares to scoot closer to Sans, and, after a moment's hesitation, puts an arm around his shoulders, holding him gently. 

“I may not always get it right, kiddo,” he mutters, just loud enough to be heard over the television. “But… I'm always gonna try to look out for you. Mmkay? And that's regardless of whatever feelings I may have for you.”

Sans is quiet and unresponsive to Papyrus’ touch, at least at first. But it isn't long before he feels the smaller skeleton relax against him, and hears his soft laugh.

“Man… what did I do to deserve this, huh?” he chuckles, looking up to grin at Papyrus. “You, uh, you keep spoiling me like this and I'm gonna start expecting  _ everything _ to be handed to me on a silver platter -- and that's just gonna mean a world of trouble for you, buddy.”

Papyrus can't help but grin back at Sans, tugging him a little closer.

“Guess I better start doing the dishes again, huh?” he jokes, letting relief finally wash over him. “Unless you don't care whether the platter’s clean or not, heh.”

Sans snickers, then finally sinks into Papyrus, shifting to curl in the taller skeleton’s lap. 

“I'm, uh, I ain't done putting the groceries away yet, kiddo,” Papyrus says, but he can hear the sound of his own smile in his voice. 

“It'll still be there tomorrow, yeah?” Sans shrugs, looking over at the television. “No need to rush, heh.”

Papyrus snorts, but he gently slides an arm around the smaller skeleton, loosely holding Sans against him. Sans, in turn, makes a small sound of contentment, sinking further against the taller skeleton as he closes his eyes, an easy grin still plastered on his face. 

Papyrus still can't quite believe this is happening, but for now, he holds Sans close, feeling the gentle hum of the other's magic resonating softly with his own. 


	18. Contact

“Anything specific you want from Muffet's this time, kiddo?”

Papyrus can hear Sans’ joints pop softly as the smaller skeleton stretches, followed by a loud sigh of both relief and exasperation.

“C'mon, Papyrus,”  Sans drawls, watching the television even as the taller skeleton approaches the couch. “You _know_ what I'm gonna say at this point. It's the same thing every time.”

“Well, refresh my memory, will ya?” Papyrus chuckles, his face pulling into an easy smile. “Show some mercy on this poor sack of bones.”

Sans snorts, unable to stop himself from grinning in response as well.

“Unless Muffet's suddenly got burgers on the menu,” he says, drawing out his syllables to Papyrus’ amusement, “then anything you think I'll like is fine. I trust your judgement enough to pick out something that's at least _kinda_ edible. You've done alright so far.”

“What a vote of confidence,” Papyrus snorts, clapping a hand on the edge of the couch before stepping away. “Alright, I'll be--”

“Wait, wait wait. C’mere, it's important.”

Sans beckons feebly for Papyrus to come closer, and Papyrus rolls his eyes, but obliges the smaller skeleton, squatting down to look him in the eye.

“What is it, kiddo?”

“No -- closer. It's important.”

“Sans, there's nobody else in the room. Hell,we're the only ones in the _house._ ”

“ _Closer._ ”

Papyrus breathes out heavily, but leans in close, turning his head slightly so Sans can whisper this apparent secret.

He feels the soft click of Sans’ teeth against his temple, and can practically hear the smaller skeleton’s grin widen.

“Don't take too long,” he says, with a soft laugh. “I'm hungry.”

Papyrus catches himself staring a lot quicker than he has been lately, and stretches himself back to his full height, dragging one hand down his face to hide the orange glow of his blush.

“You keep doin’ that, kiddo,” he stammers behind his hand, “and one of these days I'm gonna spike your food with honey.”

“Oh right, don't forget to ask for ketchup this time, will ya?”

“I'm _leaving_ now, kiddo.”

“Hurry up, the food’s getting cold!”

Even as he shuts the front door hard behind him, Papyrus hears Sans’ laughter from inside, and leans back for a moment to collect himself before pushing himself forward, his steps light as he walks to Muffet's.

He's not sure why that caught him off-guard, not when Sans has been pulling small stunts like that for the past few weeks. It might be because Papyrus still can't bring himself to believe that this is _real_ , this -- _thing_ between him and Sans. He doesn't dare to call it a relationship -- not conventionally, and _definitely_ not in any way that puts the idea of commitment into Sans’ head -- but whatever it is, it means waking up on the couch with Sans curled against him. It means noticing the softness in his smile and being able to return it with only light teasing as a retribution.

It means sometimes waking up at night from his dreams, finding Sans _far_ more willing to indulge him than he'd ever thought, and...

Papyrus pauses outside the door to Muffet's, taking a deep breath to calm himself back down before he steps inside.

“Yes, hello, welcome to -- oh, Papy dear~!”

Papyrus chuckles as he walks up to the bar, sliding easily onto his barstool as Muffet skates up to his spot.

“Another order to go, is it?” the spider tuts, but she holds up a menu all the same. “Will it be the ‘usual,’ or is there something your brother specifically wants this time?”

“Just whatever you wanna make is fine,” Papyrus shrugs, drumming his fingers against the counter. “He liked the last couple dishes, though, if that's any direction to go from.”

“Burritos and tacos, huh? Never would have expected that from your brother, but then again, I'd never expect him to be so adamant about ketchup, either. Give me just a moment to get something started, dear~”

With a soft hum, Muffet pushes herself away from the counter towards the kitchen, gliding through the swinging doors almost like they aren't there. Papyrus appreciates the moment to be alone again, and slouches forward, toying with the idea of lighting up a cigarette. Deciding against it in the end, he instead reaches up to scratch at his cheekbone, eventually curling his hand into a fist before resting against it.

He can still feel the soft click of Sans’ teeth against his temple, and despite knowing it was just a teasing gesture, Papyrus can't help but feel his face start to glow a soft shade of orange once more.

“Hmm~? Something on your mind, dearie~?”

He jumps a bit, not expecting Muffet to return quite so soon.

“Ah, nah,” he lies, trying to will away the glow from his cheekbones. “Just, uh--”

“Or, rather… some _one_ on your mind, perhaps~?”

Papyrus sputters, and Muffet giggles, clapping two hands over her mouth as she leans forward.

“Ooh~ I'm right, aren't I?” she continues, four of her five eyes scrunched up from her smile. “You're so much easier to read than you think sometimes, Papy dear~”

“Just -- keep your voice down about it, alright?” Papyrus hisses, face now hot from embarrassment. “I'm trying to _not_ let the whole world know about it. It's a… weird situation.”

“Is it anyone I _know,_ at least?” Muffet asks, leaning in conspiratorially and folding her middle arms over the bar. “You can tell me _that_ much, surely?”

Papyrus glances over his shoulder, hoping Muffet will think he’s just checking to see who’s around and not that he’s buying a few seconds to come up with a believable lie.

“...Sans and I, uh… went to Hotland, a little while ago,” he finally begins, muttering quietly as he builds up his story in his mind. “We went to Club NTT ‘cause… well, I’ve told you about how much Sans likes Naptsabot, yeah? And while we were there, I kinda… met someone, I guess. It's not anything, y’know, _serious_ , but…”

Papyrus can't tell if the smile creeping to his face is to sell the story, or just a genuine reaction as his thoughts drift towards Sans.

“...they've been kinda on my mind a lot, heh.”

“Am I going to get to meet them soon?” Muffet trills, her fanged smile widening as she slides her skated feet over the wooden floorboards.

“I'm, uh, I'm pretty sure I _just said_ I'm trying _not_ to let the whole world find out?” Papyrus grumbles, but he can't bring himself to feel as frustrated as he thinks he ought to be. “Besides, I'm pretty sure they wanna keep things quiet for now, too.”

“You know I _have_ to ask,” the spider huffs before standing up straight, resting four of her fists on her hips. “You're not here as often as you used to be, and even when you _are_ here, it feels like I have to interrogate you to find anything out anymore. I dunno how I feel about you keeping secrets.”

Papyrus glances away, but can still feel Muffet's piercing gaze on him.

“...sorry,” he mutters, reaching up to awkwardly scratch the side of his face. “It's… I'm not--”

“I know you don't mean anything _bad_ by it, dear, just… letting you know what I've noticed. ...I'll go check on your food.”

Muffet skates away quietly, easily sliding past the doors to the kitchen and leaving Papyrus alone with his thoughts.

 _Like I could explain it without sounding like a total freak,_ he chides himself, now seriously contemplating that cigarette once more. _Not when she still thinks he's my brother…_

And even if he thought she would understand whatever the hell situation he's gotten himself into this time, Papyrus refuses to live with the burden of betraying Sans’ trust. Not over something like this.

“Lucky you, Papyrus~ It went a little quicker than I expected~”

He looks back over as Muffet glides up to him, dropping two takeout containers onto the counter in front of him. With a quick, easy motion made easier by her multiple arms, she grabs a plastic bag from under the bar, sliding the boxes into it and tying the handles into a neat bow for the taller skeleton.

“There you go,” she announces proudly, handing the bag off to Papyrus. “I didn't mean to put you on the spot quite like that, so I'll put it on your tab this time.”

“Thanks, Muffet,” the skeleton replies, letting a small smile creep back to his face as he slips his fingers under the plastic knot. “I'll try to bring Sans back next time I come in, alright?”

“One of these times you're going to actually do it, dear~”

Papyrus chuckles, giving Muffet a half-wave as he steps away from the bar, easily navigating the small maze of tables as he walks towards the door. He reaches into his pocket, pulling his pack of cigarettes out as he pushes the door open with his shoulder--

“We have to go to Hotland. Now.”

He doesn't have time to be startled as Sans grabs his sleeve, then drags him along towards the river.

“Wh… where's the fire, kiddo?” he finally brings himself to ask, letting Sans continue holding his sleeve as his free hand shimmies out a single smoke from his pack. “I mean, y’know, besides Hotland…”

Sans doesn't respond to the poor attempt at a joke, so Papyrus takes the opportunity to place the cigarette between his teeth before fishing for his lighter. His stride doesn't break as he finds it, flicking it and bringing the small flame up until the smoke in his teeth catches, a wisp of whitish grey floating upwards.

“...you hear something from Undyne, Sans?” he mutters quietly, after taking a deep drag of his cigarette.

“I'll explain in a bit, just -- we gotta get there.  C'mon.”

Sans’ full stride only just matches Papyrus’ lazy steps, but the taller skeleton nevertheless hurries up, keen to the tense urgency in the other's voice.

“ _Hmm hm hm…_ hm?”

The riverperson’s head perks up just a bit as the boat sinks, just a bit, under the weight of Sans and Papyrus embarking.

“Take us to Hotland,” the smaller skeleton urges, immediately taking to pacing. “Er… take us to Hotland… please.”

“We're off to Hotland,” the riverperson replies mildly, and the boat pushes off under the force of its own magic. “ _Hmm hm hm…_ ”

It isn't until they're almost out of Snowdin that Papyrus finally sits down, fumbling with the knotted handles for a moment before deciding to just tear apart the thin plastic.

“What did Undyne tell you?” he asks, opening one of the containers to look for his food. “It had to be something big.”

“It… it's _something,_ ” Sans agrees, but his voice is tight. “I just… I don't know _what._ She, uh, she called me and asked how quick I could come to the lab. Said something about… some kind of ‘breakthrough,’ but nothing more specific than that.”

“Well… it _sounds_ like a good thing, at least. Honestly, I'm kinda surprised you didn't just literally pop on over as soon as she called, heh.”

“...yeah.”

Something about the reluctance in Sans’ voice makes Papyrus watch carefully as the smaller skeleton finally sits beside him, fingers drumming nervously along his femur.

“...why’d you wait for me, kiddo?” Papyrus murmurs, setting aside his food. “What's wrong?”

“N-No, nothing’s… _wrong,_ it's just… I…”

Sans takes a long, deep breath, then looks up at Papyrus.

He still recognizes the forced corners of that fake smile, and sees the hesitance in his eyelights.

“...I'm sure… Undyne knows what she's doing, y’know?” Sans says, forcing out a light chuckle. “It's just… y’know, I… if something _goes_ wrong, I… uh…”

He falters, then looks down into the water, his fingers curling into the fabric of his shorts.

“...if something goes wrong,” the smaller skeleton murmurs, “I don't know… how much disappointment I can handle on my own.”

Papyrus slowly reaches around Sans, pulling him in close before clicking his teeth softly to Sans’ skull.

Sans is silent, but Papyrus feels the smaller skeleton sink softly against him, and wishes that right now, he could be of more comfort.

* * *

“Ah, good, you're both here! That's great, this -- this is great!”

Even Papyrus is a little overwhelmed by Undyne’s enthusiasm, but he follows Sans into the lab, letting the smaller skeleton lead the way.

“So, what's the big news?” Sans asks, hands casually stuffed into his pockets. “It's, uh… it's not a way back home yet, is it? Or else you'd have just said so, heh.”

“I'm still working on that,” Undyne assures, an unfamiliar but not unfitting note of confidence in her voice. “And I'm making progress, but -- but I found something that may, uh… well, I'm sure you'll appreciate this in the meantime. But, uh, first -- Sans, I need your phone, please.”

“Uh…? Yeah, alright…”

With an odd look, Sans pulls his phone out of his pocket, placing it in the Royal Scientist’s extended palm. Undyne, in turn, hurries over to her desk, beckoning with her free hand for the skeletons to follow.

“I just need to install…” she begins, pushing stuff around in search of her told. “...a chip… into the phone, and then… ah, here we go!”

As Undyne pops off the back cover, Sans glances back at Papyrus, shooting him a smile that's just a little too wide to pass for relaxed -- and he can see it in the smaller skeleton’s eyes: _is it too soon to start getting worried?_

Papyrus puts a hand on Sans’ shoulder and squeezes, fixing Sans with a soft smile of his own.

“Okay, here!”

Sans turns back as Undyne presses his phone back into his hands.

“I added the chip,” she says, grinning. “Now you should be able to call anyone you want, anywhere they are!”

Papyrus, at least, has the good grace to keep his expression neutral -- but Sans can’t stop a bewildered frown from creeping to his face as he turns the phone over in his hands.

“I, uh… not to be… um.”

A soft laugh briefly slips from Sans’ throat before he flicks his gaze up towards Undyne, mouth pulling into an awkward smile.

“Not to be, um… _rude,_ Undyne, but… I thought that was, y’know… the whole idea behind a cell phone?” he finally asks, lightly waving his phone at her. “Y’know, a… a _mobile_ phone so I can call from wherever I am--?”

“No, no,” Undyne shakes her head, pushing her glasses back up as they slip down her face. “Not wherever _you_ are. Wherever _they_ are. There’s… a difference, Sans.”

“...so, like… if I wanted to call someone in… in the Core--”

“No -- I mean, you _can_ now, but think -- think bigger, Sans.”

Sans’ brow furrows, just a bit.

“What, like… if I wanted to call someone on… on the surface…?”

“Y-Yes, but -- Sans, think _bigger._ Think… think _further._ Think...”

As Undyne circles her hands, trying to physically sift through her words, Sans’ eyes slowly widen, his smile freezing on his face.

“...you… you, you don’t, uh, mean, like… _anywhere,_ do you…?” he asks, but his words are soft, voice shaking around the edges. “I mean, it’s… it’s not… I, I can’t call…”

“Sans,” Undyne interrupts in a moment of Sans’ silence. “Just… _anyone_ you want to call… _try it._ ”

Sans freezes, his eyelights flicking back down to his phone for only the briefest of moments before he stares at Undyne.

“... it… it’s not going to work,” he finally laughs, taking a step back. “It… Undyne, there’s -- there’s no way it -- I’ve _tried already,_ okay, and it -- it _didn’t work,_ so, so--”

“Sans--”

“I, I can't -- wh-why would you do this…? Undyne, why are you trying to -- to get my hopes up…? This isn't going to work, it's _not going to work,_ and -- and even if it did, I--”

Sans flinches as Papyrus gently places a hand on his shoulder, but can't bring himself to look up.

“...E-even if it did, I… h-how do I know there’s… anyone there…?”

Papyrus can feel the shudder that runs up the smaller skeleton’s spine, and takes a deep breath himself before leaning in close.

“Sans… why would she do this for you if she didn’t think there was anything there?” he murmurs softly, trying to sound as reassuring as he can manage. “Undyne’s not cruel like that -- she couldn’t be even if she _wanted_ to. And, Sans… you’re asking if there’s anyone there…?”

With his free hand, Papyrus softly curls Sans’ fingers around the phone.

“Kiddo… this is your chance to find out.”

Sans freezes, eyelights fixed on the phone in his hand, and Papyrus wonders if perhaps he's stopped breathing.

“I-If you tried calling before,” Undyne adds, the her words tinged by her familiar soft stutter, “it wouldn’t have worked because… I only made the adapter last night. I had to do all my tests this morning to make sure it wouldn’t, you know… blow up your phone? Ahaha… hah… but, it -- it should work! Any number you want to call, Sans -- _any_ number, just… just _try it._ ”

Sans shakes his head, slowly, almost as though he’s being forced to move at all -- but Papyrus watches carefully as he turns the phone back over in his hand.

“... this… isn't gonna work,” the smaller skeleton finally mumbles, but he pulls up the dial screen nonetheless. “This isn't… gonna work. It's…”

“But what if it does?”

Sans grits his teeth, eyes squeezing shut as he slowly types in the number.

“...I'm scared,” he whines quietly, his bones rattling from his tension. “I'm… Papyrus, I'm _really damn scared._ What if nobody--”

“They’re gonna answer, Sans,” Papyrus assures, the hand on Sans’ shoulder looping around to hold him close. “I just… I can _feel_ it, alright, kiddo? _Someone’s_ gonna pick up the phone.”

Sans glances over at Papyrus, nothing but anxiety etched into his face -- but he nods, and, after another moment of hesitation, presses the call button before putting the phone on speaker.

“...it’s ringing,” he chokes out, his legs almost buckling under him as the familiar trill of the dial rings out. “Oh god, it’s _ringing._ ”

“Oh my god,” Undyne breathes, hands clasped over her mouth to muffle her already soft words. “Oh my god, it _worked._ ”

The phone keeps ringing -- twice, then a third time, punctuating the silence -- but Papyrus quickly notices the way Sans’ eyes hollow out as the dial drags on.

“Sans…?”

“He -- he’s not answering,” Sans mumbles, his hands shaking. “He -- he _never_ lets it ring more than twice, not even when he’s _sleeping_ , so that… that means he’s…”

He sees the puzzle Sans is putting together in his mind, and tightens his hold on the smaller skeleton, sinking to the ground with him as Sans’ legs finally give out.

“I’m such an _idiot,_ ” he chokes, trying to suppress his sobs and just barely succeeding. “Here I was, holding onto some… some _pipe dream_ that maybe -- I dunno, that fate would finally see the shitty hand I got dealt and take _pity_ on me, but -- but that’s not what’s--”

“Sans, don’t -- don’t say things like--”

Sans shoves Papyrus’ arm off from his shoulders before hanging up the call, in the middle of its sixth ring.

“You _don’t know him,_ ” he moans, wrapping his arms around himself as he hunches over. “He never, he… _never_ lets his phone ring on like that, not for _anyone…_ unless he’s… not… _there to answer it._ So if he hasn’t picked up, then he’s… Pap’s…”

It starts as a soft hiccup, but Sans finally breaks into a full sob, his small frame shuddering as thick tears roll down his face. Even as he curls further into himself, his wails fill up the silence, stifling any feeble attempt by Undyne and Papyrus to console him.

Papyrus moves first, reaching to carefully slide Sans’ phone out of his hand. Sans lets it go without a fight, but his forceful sobs soften a little in response to the unexpected motion, and he shifts just enough to see what Papyrus is doing.

The soft ring of a phone dialing once more fills the air before the taller skeleton sets the phone on the ground in front of him, placing one hand on Sans’ shoulder.

“...why are you doing this?” Sans croaks, not shifting from his curled spot on the floor.

“I’m not letting you give up that easily,” Papyrus frowns, tightening his grip on the smaller skeleton. “Not on something like this.”

Sans reaches one hand out for the phone, but Papyrus pulls it further away, letting it continue to ring.

“Give it back…”

“Not yet. Not until someone answers.”

“P-Papyrus, he -- _nobody’s going to answer,_ why are you… just _stop, please_ , just…”

“Sans, _someone_ has to answer the phone--”

“Who the hell do _you_ know that answers a phone that’s _not theirs--?_ ”

“ _Hello?”_ ”

Sans freezes momentarily, then slowly glances up at the phone, eyes wide.

“ _...HELLO? Is anyone there?! I swear, if this is another damn prank-caller, I’m gonna--_ ”

It’s not his brother’s voice, not even close -- but Sans recognizes that sharp, menacing growl, and he scrambles for the phone, snatching it and holding it close to his face.

“U-Undyne, is -- is that you?” he asks, his voice cracking softly before he clears his throat.

“ _Hm?! Who the hell is this?!_ ”

Despite himself, despite everything, Sans can’t help but let out a short, relieved laugh, letting his shoulders slump softly forward.

“Undyne, it -- it’s _me._ It’s… it’s Sans.”

For a moment, he wonders if the call’s dropped, and he starts to speak again--

“ _...you’ve got a lot of_ **_something_ ** _to wait this damn long to call, you bastard._ ”

He shouldn’t be surprised, but the venom in her words sends a chill down his spine, and Sans swallows loudly, trying to contain his nerves.

“I… I would have called sooner if I could, Undyne,” he finally speaks up, his hands rattling despite his attempts to calm himself. “I -- I’m trying to get ahold of Papyrus, is… is he--”

“ _Yeah, I_ **_know_ ** _you’re trying to get ahold of Papyrus,_ ” Undyne snaps. “ _That’s why you called_ **_his phone,_ ** _isn’t it? Well, why the hell should I let you talk to him? You sure damn well didn’t see fit to even tell him where you were running off to, huh?!_ _And now -- **four months** later,  **now's** when you think it's high time to check on your brother?!_ ”

“Th-That… Undyne, that's not what happened, I--”

“ _Oh, it's_ **_not,_ ** _huh? What, you have another convenient little lie for me to try and tell him? Let’s hear this one, then; you’ve had time to think about it, so it better be a_ **_good_ ** _one, at least._ ”

Sans can see it so clearly -- the sneer on her face as she crosses her arms, her one good eye scrunched up as her sharp nails dig into the blue scales of her skin -- and he shakes, his breath escaping as shallow gasps as his eyesockets hollow out--

“You don’t know what I’ve _been_ through, Undyne,” he finally seethes, voice starting soft but quickly building. “You don’t -- you don’t know what I’ve _done_ for Papyrus, the _hell_ I’ve been through for him…!”

“Sans,” Papyrus tries to interrupt, the hand on Sans’ shoulder shifting to rest on his spine. “Sans, you need to calm down, you’re--”

“I’ve been _stuck here!_ ” Sans finally screams at the phone, shoving Papyrus’ arm away. “I’ve been _stuck here_ in this, this… _mirror world_ for _months_ because I was trying to _bring him back!_ And now -- this is the first time I’ve even had proof that home even _exists,_ and it’s by talking to _you,_ and you -- you won’t even tell me if he’s alive! Just _tell me, Undyne -- tell me where my brother is!_ ”

The echoes of his voice fade a little quicker than he’d have liked, and soon, the only sound breaking the silence is that of his rattled breathing as Sans stares at his phone.

“...please,” he whimpers softly, all the fire within vanishing into smoke, quick as it came. “Please, Undyne, just… tell me that he’s… tell me _if_ he’s still alive.”

It’s a few moments before the low sound of a forceful sigh hisses from the phone, regretfully displacing the hard silence.

“ _...he’s alive, Sans,_ ” Undyne grits out, between the sound of her grinding her teeth. “ _He’s not here with me right now, but… he’s alive._ ”

Papyrus catches the phone before it rattles out of Sans’ trembling grasp, but he slides one of his hands into Sans’, squeezing softly.

“He’s alive,” Sans wheezes, crushing Papyrus’ hand in his grip. “Oh my god, _he’s alive._ ”

“ _Dunno why you’d expect otherwise, but yeah, he’s alive,_ ” Undyne repeats, an edge of agitation in her voice. “ _He’s been a wreck since you’ve been gone, but that other Sans that showed up has helped him keep it together, and I’ve been crashing on your couch since I found out you’ve been…_ **_missing._ ** ”

Sans feels Papyrus’ hand stiffen in his own, and flicks his eyes up.

“Wh… what ‘other Sans’?” he asks, watching the way the features of Papyrus’ face tighten up, knowing there's no way, there's _no way_ she means--

“ _Yeah, this… weird copy of you showed up, apparently ‘bout the same time you disappeared. He's… energetic, if nothing else. Likes to call himself ‘the Magnificent Sans.’_ ”

Papyrus chokes, nearly dropping the phone himself, and Sans can distantly hear this world's Undyne gasp softly behind her hands.

“Put ‘em on the phone,” Sans urges, grabbing towards the hand holding his phone. “Undyne, _put them on the phone._ ”

“ _What part of ‘they ain't here’ don't you understand?_ ” Undyne snaps from the other end of the line. “ _They went to Alphys’, both of them. She's been trying to find a way to get that Sans home. Papyrus left his phone with me ‘cause he's got that kid's number saved, but he's about as good as charging his phone as you are. It's outta juice._ ”

The urgent panic in his soul slowly starts to fade, but Sans doesn't loosen his hold on Papyrus -- not on the hand being crushed in his tight grip, nor on the sleeve of the others orange hoodie.

“When… when will they be back?” he asks, finding himself slumping against the taller skeleton.

“ _Hell if I know -- you know how your brother likes to get distracted. If nothing else, they’re usually home in time to catch that garbage on late-night television, if you wanted to try calling then… but I’m not gonna tell him you called! I’m not gonna get his hopes up for nothing if you’re too chicken-shit to call back, you hear me?!_ ”

Despite the hostility in Undyne’s voice, Sans can’t help but close his eyes, a slow, deep breath finally escaping his chest.

“...Thank you, Undyne,” he says, a weak smile creeping to his face.

“ _Psht! Don’t thank me for doing something I would have done anyway! Let’s see if you’re still thanking me when I kick your ass after you get back home!_ ”

Even if he had anything else to say, Undyne hangs up the call before Sans can interject -- but Sans is too busy leaning his head against Papyrus’ shoulder, tears falling freely down his face.

“He’s alive,” the smaller skeleton sobs, though his face is twisted in an aching grin. “Papyrus, my brother -- _your_ brother, he... he’s _alive. They’re okay._ ”

He doesn’t expect Papyrus to finally shake his hand free of Sans’ grasp, but Sans doesn’t protest as the taller skeleton carefully scoops him into his lap, wrapping his lanky arms tightly around him before he starts softly rocking back and forth.

“I know, kiddo,” Papyrus breathes, unable to stop the small shiver of relief from coursing through his body. “...I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like this chapter... processed itself differently than all the others so far. I might have finally unlocked an achievement of "new writing style." Stay tuned for further developments, I suppose.


	19. Reunion I

“... I… what am I supposed to _say_ to him…?”

Papyrus glances over at Sans to find him fiddling with his phone, turning it over and over again in his hands.

“I mean,” he continues as the boat continues calmly down the river, “Undyne… _my_ Undyne -- she's right, y’know? It's been so long, I… I can't just call him up and go, ‘sup, bro?’ Not after I just… up and vanished like that. How do I even know he even _wants_ to… to…”

Sans trails off, but doesn’t stop playing with his phone -- not until Papyrus quietly reaches over, resting a hand on the smaller skeleton’s wrist.

“Call it a brother’s intuition,” he says softly, gently rubbing his thumb over the thin bones of Sans’ hand. “But from what you’ve told me, I have the feeling that he’s gonna be just as happy to hear your voice as you’ll be to hear his.”

There’s something soft, something he can’t quite call _doubt_ in Sans’ expression as the smaller skeleton looks up to him. But he finally stops fidgeting with his phone, hesitating only a few moments longer before sliding it back into his pocket, and he fixes Papyrus with tentative but trusting smile.

“...brother’s intuition, huh?” Sans asks, swinging his legs softly over the side of the boat. “Is that, uh, s’that what you’re calling it these days?”

“Well, I mean…Alphys likes to call it a crock of shit, but I figured ‘brother’s intuition’ has a better ring to it, y’know? Makes it sound like something positive, heh.”

Sans’ laugh isn’t quite as infectious as his soft, relieved smile, but Papyrus finds himself chuckling along as well all the same.

“...I’m just… worried, I guess,” the smaller skeleton finally admits, shrugging softly as the corners of his mouth droop back down a little. “I’ve… not always been the best brother, but no matter what timeline, he’s always forgiven me, y’know…? But I’ve also never… never, um…”

Sans pauses for a moment, then casts his eyelights down, gazing into the reflective surface of the water.

“...even in the worst timelines… I’ve never been away from him for this long,” he murmurs, just over the sound of the river’s gentle motion. “...I don’t know how he’s, y’know… gonna… _react._ ...I’m not sure I’m ready to face… _that_ unknown.”

Maybe the gesture is too intimate, too… _attached,_ perhaps, for what Sans wants from him. But Papyrus slides his fingertips over Sans’ palm all the same, and only hesitates for a moment before he entwines their fingers, holding gently.

“Everything’s gonna work out okay in the end, kiddo,” he assures, voice soft. “Call it whatever you want, but… I can feel it in my bones.”

Sans is silent, choosing to look back down the river. But Papyrus feels the gentle squeeze of his hand, brief yet undeniably there, and he can’t help but return the soft hold before kicking his feet over the side of the boat, the soles of his shoes lightly skimming the water’s surface.

* * *

Despite the gnawing emptiness in what would be his stomach, Sans finds himself alternating between staring at the cold empanadas in his takeout container and checking his phone for the time, turning on the screen in ever-shortening intervals.

“You should eat, kiddo,” Papyrus suggests, twirling his linguine around his fork. “You haven’t eaten anything all day. Especially with how long today's been…”

“I’m fine,” Sans mutters, pushing away his food. “I’m not hungry.”

“Sans…”

“...I’m not… I can’t eat right now,” the smaller skeleton sighs, reluctantly correcting himself. “Not when I’m waiting for… this. Not when I’ve been waiting all day.”

Papyrus scratches at his temple, then casually sticks his fork in his own reheated food, watching as the utensil slowly leans over.

At least he can tell himself he made the effort.

“When are you gonna call him?” he asks, softly drumming his fingers against the tabletop. “It’s getting a bit late, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, but… if the time’s the same here as it is back home, then Mettaton’s show hasn’t started yet,” Sans shakes his head, once again checking his phone. “Pap, he -- he likes to get all settled in ‘bout ten minutes before the show begins, so… I mean, if I’m gonna really make it a phone call from me, I should, y’know -- I should wait until he’s just gotten comfy, yeah? That’s what brothers are supposed to do, after all… at least, that's what _I've_ always done, heh.”

He offers a small chuckle at that -- but it’s not the same, easy sound Papyrus is used to hearing from the smaller skeleton, and he can see the dark lines under Sans’ sockets.

“Well… I dunno about you, but it sounds like your brother's got the right idea,” Papyrus says, pushing his chair back from the kitchen table. “You coming?”

“...what?”

Papyrus rubs the back of his head, feigning indifference to the look of confusion Sans fixes him with.

“Well, I mean… it's up to you, obviously,” the taller skeleton says with a casual shrug of his shoulders. “But, y'know, if I was gonna have a long talk on the phone with someone, I'd want to be comfortable too, yeah? And I know the couch ain't that great, but it sure beats sitting in these wooden chairs all night long.”

He holds his breath for a moment as Sans continues staring at him with almost-uncomfortably wide eyes; it's not long, though, before the expression breaks, and the smaller skeleton’s face twists into a soft smile.  

“You sure you, uh, don't hide your lighter in your head, buddy?” Sans chuckles as he slides out of his chair. “Because you've been having some pretty bright ideas lately.”

“Oh, quiet, you,” Papyrus huffs, but the cheeky grin on the other's face makes the teasing more than bearable as they both step into the living room. “Just figured I'd try to make things a little easier if I could.”

He pays no mind to the small laugh that slips out of Sans’ mouth as they approach the couch -- but then Papyrus feels a hand curl softly into his, feels Sans’ fingers thread between his own, not grabbing but still very patently _there_ \-- and it’s all he can manage to make sitting down on the couch look totally, completely _natural._

“So, since I mentioned TV, I’ve gotta ask,” Sans starts, casually sinking into the couch, curling into Papyrus’ lap with great familiarity. “Your bro, uh… is he as much of a TV nut as mine? ‘Cause Pap… he’s _crazy_ about Mettaton’s shows. I don’t think he’s missed a single one… not even reruns, heh.”

“Heh… sounds a lot like Sans, alright,” Papyrus chuckles, letting the tinge of orange show on his face as the smaller skeleton rests his head against his chest. “He likes to mimic the voices of any repeats for Napstabot’s shows, and I don’t think he ever gets tired of it. It’s more entertaining than the show itself, to be honest.”

A brief chuckle slips from his teeth, but it isn’t long before Papyrus’ face twists into a soft, confused frown.

“You, uh… mind if I ask why you asked that, kiddo…?”

“Oh, it’s, uh,” Sans starts, and despite the casual tone of his voice, Papyrus hears the fumble for his words. “I’m just curious, y’know? And, well… trying to figure out who… well, y’know, who might be there if -- _when_ I make the call, and…”

Sans tries to keep his thought going, but trails off after the slip of his tongue, growing momentarily silent at the feeling of Papyrus’ eyes fixing on him.

“... I’m… still worried, y’know?” he finally admits, soft and uncertain. “That he’s, um. That he’s gonna hang up as soon as he hears my voice, and--”

“Sans…”

“And I’m trying to find reasons to _do_ this, to _make_ this call -- like, you’d think hearing my brother’s voice would be motivation enough, wouldn’t it? Finally hearing for myself that he’s okay? But it’s -- it’s _hard,_ y’know, especially when--”

“Sans.”

Sans doesn’t flinch away as Papyrus wraps his arms around him, holding the smaller skeleton close as he rests his chin on top of the other’s head.

“...it’s hard to try when, um…” he finally continues, mumbling into Papyrus’ hoodie. “When you spend so long… looking for ways to… to give up.”

Papyrus is silent as he softly tightens his loose hold on Sans, pulling the smaller skeleton against him until he feels the uneasy thrum of magic simmering off of his bones. Sans isn’t tense -- he doesn’t try to fidget out of the other’s embrace, and his body still vaguely follows the curves of Papyrus’ torso -- but even as a reluctant sigh finally escapes him, he doesn’t slacken against the taller skeleton in that calm, easy way that Papyrus has gotten used to.

“He's gonna pick up the phone,” the taller skeleton murmurs softly against Sans’ skull, fingers curling into the other's blue hoodie. “And he's gonna realize it's you, and you two are gonna talk until you're both blue in the face. Though that’s probably gonna be easier for you, given… y’know. Blue magic and all.”

Despite himself, Sans snorts, his mouth twisting into a half-smile as he relaxes a little more against Papyrus.

“I’m gonna be honest with ya, pal,” he chuckles, tapping two fingers softly against the taller skeleton’s forearm. “If you were trying to get me to relax by telling bad jokes, well… you really _blue_ it there, heh.”

“Oh, did I, now?” Papyrus smirks, his cheek pressed against the side of Sans’ head. “Well, _color_ me surprised, kiddo. I thought you’d like that one. But I mean, if my jokes have you _seeing red,_ that’s fine, I’ll stop…”

Sans’ snort grows into a full laugh, and as he sinks deeper into Papyrus’ embrace, the taller skeleton feels his own expression soften into a warm smile.

“It’s gonna be alright, Sans,” he promises, loosening his hold on the smaller skeleton. “If nothing else… at least you don’t have to do this alone.”

Sans’ smile falters, just a bit. But it doesn’t completely wash away from his face, and even from this angle, Papyrus sees that the tightness he’d expected in the corners is conspicuously absent.

“...yeah,” Sans finally nods, and he fishes his phone out of his pocket, holding it in both hands. “I… you’re right. I’m just… y’know, I’m…”

He waits patiently for Sans to continue, but the smaller skeleton is silent as he check the time on his phone once more.

“...Mettaton’s show should be about ready to start,” he finally sighs, and he pulls up the call screen, thumbs hovering over the numbers. “Now or never, I guess.”

Papyrus wants to ask how that sentence was supposed to end, but Sans is already dialing, thumbs tapping the numbers with a rapid familiarity before he hits the speaker button. Soon, the trill of the phone’s ring fills the silence -- once, then twice, loud and clear.

Sans stiffens slowly, and Papyrus’ hold tightens in equal measure as he prepares to reassure him once more--

“ _HELLO?_ ”

The booming, high-strung voice resonating from the phone’s speaker is not quite loud enough to cover the shaking sigh that escapes Sans, like a breath he’d forgotten to let go a long time ago.

“It’s him,” he breathes out, one hand letting go of his phone to grab at Papyrus’ wrist. “ _It’s him._ ”

“ _HELLO?_ ” the voice repeats, his already-powerful voice pitching a little louder. “ _IS SOMEBODY THERE??_ ”

The hand on Papyrus’ wrist clutches a little tighter, and he can feel the smaller skeleton rattling softly against him. But Sans’ breath has steadied, and he inhales deeply, letting the air escape as a low, quiet sigh as he briefly closes his eyesockets.

“H… Hey, Pap,” Sans finally speaks, words cracking softly around the edges. “Long time, no talk, huh?”

The heavy silence trickles in from the other end of the line, threading through Sans and Papyrus both, silently squeezing the air from their ribcages until, as tentative as the voice can muster--

“ _... S… SANS…?_ ”

“Yeah, bro,” Sans nods, a relieved laugh bubbling from his throat. “It's me. I'm -- I'm here.”

There's a sound of upturned furniture, and the voice -- not just a voice, Papyrus’ voice, _Sans’ brother’s voice_ \-- babbles excitedly, as though the skeleton on the other end has momentarily forgotten how to speak.

“ _I KNEW IT!!_ ” Papyrus finally exclaims, his words overflowing with relieved joy. “ _UNDYNE SAID THAT YOU -- WELL, NEVER MIND THAT! I, I KNEW YOU WERE OKAY, BROTHER!! YOU MUST HAVE BEEN DOING SOMETHING REALLY IMPORTANT IF YOU COULDN'T CALL BEFORE NOW, BUT -- BUT I KNEW YOU HAD TO BE--_ ”

“Yeah, I'm okay,” Sans interrupts, his own voice thick as the tears starting to stream down his face. “I'm okay, I'm okay. I'm _here. You're_ here, that's -- _you're_ okay though, too, right? You, you've been okay?”

“ _I AM MORE THAN OKAY, BROTHER!_ ” Papyrus announces, almost offended at the choice of words. “ _I AM_ **_GREAT!_ ** _I AM_ **_ALWAYS_ ** _GREAT, NYEH HEH HEH! BUT… NOW THAT I KNOW YOU ARE OKAY AS WELL, I'M A FEELING A LITTLE GREATER THAN I HAVE BEEN LATELY!_ ”

Sans’ tears are dripping from his face, falling onto Papyrus’ sleeves and staining them with large blots of moisture. But the laugh in Sans’ voice is easier than he's ever heard from the smaller skeleton, and the more he chatters away with his brother on the other end, the more he seemingly melts into the other's embrace, like the last of his cares finally slipping away. Papyrus, content for the moment to simply listen to Sans and his brother, softens his hold on the other skeleton, resting his chin atop Sans’ head, the soothing thrall of Sans’ now-peaceful magic lulling him into closing his eyes…

“ _Papy? Who are you talking to?_ ”

A voice, softer but no less full of brightness, peeks in from the background of the other end of the call -- and Papyrus freezes, breath catching in his ribs, because despite hearing Sans’ Undyne confirm earlier, the doubt had lingered, telling him it wasn't possible, that it couldn't just be _that easy_ \--

“ _SANS!_ ” the other Papyrus cries out, away from the phone's speaker. “ _SANS, IT'S MY BROTHER, IT -- IT'S_ **_SANS!!_ ** ”

“ _W-What?! Really?!? Papy, that's--!_ ”

Through the excited, barely-intelligible shrieks of joy between the skeletons on the other end, Papyrus realizes Sans has tilted his head to look up at him -- and despite the still-damp tearstains on his bony cheeks, his eyelights are clear, and he waits.

“...it's him,” Papyrus finally croaks, an unfamiliar rush of relief coursing through his bones. “That's… that's my _bro._ Oh god, he's… he's actually--”

He chokes on his own voice, but Sans’ hand slides over his own, squeezing hard before he looks back down at the phone.

“Hey, Pap,” he calls out, trying to interrupt the jabbering on the other end. “ _Pap._ Do me a favor, will ya?”

“ _OF COURSE! WHAT IS IT, BROTHER?_ ”

He inhales deeply, still soft against Papyrus as he pulls his legs a little closer into his chest.

“Sounds like you've got a new buddy over there, yeah?” Sans asks, voice tinged with the sound of his smile. “How ‘bout you put the phone on speaker? I, uh… I've got a friend here he might wanna talk to, heh.”

“ _OH? IS IT SOMEONE I KNOW, TOO?_ ”

“...in a way, I guess?” Sans shrugs, but he can't hold back the soft chuckle that slips out of his throat. “But be a pal, will ya? Put the call on speaker, Pap.”

“ _IF YOU INSIST… HANG ON…_ ”

There's a second or two of silence before a soft, crinkling static drifts from the phone’s speakers, entwined with an anticipatory silence, until finally, hesitantly--

“ _Uh… hello?_ ”

Papyrus doesn’t even realize that he’s probably crushing Sans’ ribs as he breathes in, sharp and quick, hardly daring to believe  -- but it’s his voice, _it’s his voice,_ soft and bright and _oh god it’s really--_

“Hey, kiddo,” he finally croaks, wishing now that he had a cigarette pinched between his almost-chattering teeth. “You been behaving over there?”

“ **_P-Papy?!_ ** ”

There’s a soft scuffle, and the sound of the phone on the other end being dropped; but it’s picked back up, and now it’s Sans’ -- _his_ Sans’ voice ringing loud and clear from the other side.

“ _Papy, you -- you’re okay!!_ ” Sans sputters, and Papyrus can hear the relieved sob in his brother’s voice. “ _I-I mean, I knew you would be, but -- oh, Papy, I miss you, I miss you so_ **_much,_ ** _I--_ ”

“I know, little buddy,” Papyrus breathes, leaning forward and softly pressing himself against the Sans in his arms’ back. “I know. I miss you, too… we -- both of us have missed the two of you more than anything, and--”

He pauses for a moment when Sans carefully threads his fingers in with own, but takes the chance to inhale deeply, collecting his emotions along with his breath.

“...it's good to hear your voice again, bro.”

There's the sound of someone sniffling on the other end, then the soft clack of bony hands trying to rub away tears.

“ _Y… yeah,_ ” Sans finally chokes out, and despite the tears, Papyrus can hear the smile in his brother's voice. “ _It… it's good to hear yours, too, Papy._ ”

“ _WHY ARE YOU CRYING, SANS?_ ” Papyrus’ voice booms in the background, full of pomp and vigor. “ _YOU WERE RIGHT! OUR BROTHERS ARE TOGETHER, SAFE AND SOUND! AND CLEARLY, MY BROTHER HAS CALLED US TO SAY THAT WHATEVER THEY WERE DOING IS DONE, AND EVERYONE CAN COME HOME! RIGHT, SANS?_ ”

Sans doesn't tense up -- not really. But his weight doesn't sit quite as comfortably against Papyrus anymore, and there's a palpable silence in the air before a soft laugh finally passes through Sans’ teeth.

“We're… we're working on it, Pap,” he says, clenching his hand a little tighter around Papyrus’. “I dunno how long it's gonna take, but… we're working on it, okay? But… yeah.  I'm gonna be coming home.”

“... _DO YOU PROMISE, SANS…?_ ”

There’s a note of pain in his brother's voice, and Sans swallows audibly before closing his eyes.

“I… I promise, Pap,” he assures, voice soft. “On my honor as your oldest brother.”

“ _SANS, YOU'RE MY_ **_ONLY_ ** _BROTHER!_ ”

“Well, guess that means I can't slack off this time, huh?”

“ **_SANS!!_ ** ”

Sans snickers at his brother's aggravated screech, but Papyrus thinks he hears the tone of relief in his doppelganger’s voice. And as he clicks his teeth against the back of Sans’ skull, a soft, lingering gesture, he feels the smaller skeleton sink into his arms, a quiet laugh escaping his throat.

“They're okay,” Sans murmurs, soft enough to not interrupt his brother's angry babbling. “Pap, and, and your brother… _they're okay._ ”

Papyrus can't help but smile, and leans back, softly pulling Sans with him.

“I know, Sans,” he whispers back, teeth still softly pressed against Sans’ skull. “...I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been burned out by life in general for a while, but dammit, it's about damn time my babies get to be happy. 
> 
> On a side note, buttercupsticksnlicks of tumblr fame did a commission for me -- a cover, so to speak, for the story. Check it out in chapter one!


	20. Soft

“So… you call him ‘kiddo’ a lot too, huh?”

“Hm?”

Sans rolls his eyes as he pockets his phone, another long call to their brothers concluded only by the battery draining all the way down to zero.

“Your brother,” he clarifies, stretching out on the couch and resting his head on Papyrus’ lap. “Every time we talk, you like to call him that, too. Is that just a thing you do because we’re Sanses, buddy?”

“Don’t you ‘buddy’ me, _kiddo,_ ” Papyrus snorts, lightly flicking a finger against Sans’ upper arm. “And is there a problem with me calling him that? In case you didn’t notice, I called him other nicknames, too. ‘Little buddy,’ ‘pal,’ ‘squirt’...”

“Yeah, but… you only call _me_ ‘kiddo.’ I dunno… how am I supposed to feel about that, huh? What, am I not _special_ enough for other nicknames, hm? I mean, I get it, he’s your _bro,_ but… c’mon. Throw me a bone here, heh. Heck, throw me two hundred and six of ‘em while you’re at it…”

Papyrus sees the bad joke coming a mile away, but he still snickers, feeling the now-familiar flutter in his chest at the sight of Sans’ widening smile.

“So you want another nickname that bad, huh?” he asks, choosing yet again to keep silent about the sensation. “Well, Sans, as it just so happens, I actually _have_ a nickname that I’ve been toying with, _just_ for you.”

“Oh yeah?”

Sans’s body wiggles, just a bit, as the smaller skeleton settles more comfortably on the couch -- and as he grins up at Papyrus, the taller skeleton smiles back, hands resting on Sans’ chest.

“Well?” Sans prompts, raising his browbones slightly at Papyrus. “I’m, uh, I’m waiting to hear this great name you came up with, pal, so any day now…”

“You sure you’re ready for this?” Papyrus teases, finding himself enjoying Sans’ eager anticipation. “Ready for this great nickname that’s _just_ for you…”

He tries to keep his smile as close to neutral as possible, but feels the corners of his jaw perking upwards, just a bit.

“... _Sansy?_ ”

Sans’ wide, toothy grin freezes, his eyelights suddenly fixed perfectly still in his sockets.

“That’s a joke, right?” he asks, forcing a laugh Papyrus. “That’s not _really_ what you came up with, is it?”

“What, you don’t like it?” the taller skeleton protests lightly, but he can no longer keep his smile from widening. “After all the effort I went through to come up with a nickname _just_ for you--”

“And _that’s_ what you came up with? _Sansy?_ Nope. Not gonna accept it. Better think of something else there, _Papster._ ”

“Ooh, ‘Papster,’ huh? That’s what _you_ came up with? I _like_ that. Makes me sound like a, uh, what's it called -- like a Mafia person, yeah? Y’know, like one of those old-timey humans from the surface. You _sure_ you wanna give me that cool of a nickname, _Sansy?_ ”

“... n-no, I, uh… n-now that you mention it, I'm.. really sure I _don't._ ”

Papyrus hears the hard, nervous edge in Sans’ voice, feels him stiffen under his arms -- sees the corners of his mouth tighten, just a bit, in that particular way that the taller skeleton recognizes with unfortunate familiarity.

“Hey… you alright, Sans?” Papyrus murmurs, shifting a hand to gently rub the smaller skeleton’s shoulder.

“Y-Yeah, I'm… fine,” Sans nods, but Papyrus hears the forced calm in his voice. “Just… didn't realize how close that was gonna sound to, uh… to the name of someone I… never really got along with, heh. Caught me off-guard, is all.”

Papyrus doesn't speak -- not at first. But his hand still softly rubs at Sans’ shoulder, massaging through the worn blue hoodie, even as the tension still courses through the smaller skeleton’s bones.

“...s’a bit long anyway, don't you think?” he finally asks, with a small shrug of his shoulder. “I mean, it's still two whole syllables, yeah? ... _I_ still think it sounds cool, but, y’know… if you wanted to boil it down to ‘Paps’ or something, I can't really say I'd mind.”

Sans is silent, but when he looks closely, Papyrus notices his smile softening around the harder corners, and he feels the smaller skeleton relax, just a little, against him.

“...see, you _say_ that, and that makes _sense,_ ” Sans finally replies, and he rubs a sock-covered foot against the armrest of the couch. “But then you give _me_ nicknames that are _longer_ than my name, and -- well, _Paps_ , that sorta defeats the _purpose_ of a nickname, doesn’t it?”

Despite himself, or maybe just because Sans seems to have snapped out of whatever funk he’d started slipping into, Papyrus chuckles, leaning back into the couch with relief.

“Hard to get shorter than _one syllable_ , kiddo,” he points out, with an affectionate softness to his voice. “Besides, it's got a nice little bounce to it, don't you agree? Sansy. Sans-y.”

“ _Nope._ ”

“C'mon, _Sansy._ Don't be a killjoy.”

Sans sighs aggravatedly, reaching up to pinch what would be the bridge of his nose -- but behind his hand, Papyrus sees his grin widening, ever so slightly.

“...y’know what? I'm in a good mood tonight,” Sans finally admits, dropping his hand back above his head as he fixes his eyelights on Papyrus. “I'll let it slide, but, uh… _you_ gotta get up and get us something to drink while we watch Naptsabot. I'd ask if that sounds fair, but, well… I'm not gonna get up either way, heh. I’m feeling like a lazybones today.”

Papyrus snorts, but he carefully slides off the couch once Sans scooches down, sliding his head off the taller skeleton’s lap.

“Any preferences, _Sansy?_ ” he asks, a soft teasing note in his voice even now as he wanders into the kitchen.

“Yeah, something that'll make you forget you came up with that nickname and make _me_ forget I ever heard it, if we’ve even _got_ something that strong…”

With a soft snicker, Papyrus opens the fridge, digging through the piles of leftovers to find the dark bottles stashed all the way in the back.

* * *

“Heeey… Paps?”

“Mmm? Yeah, Sansy?”

Sans giggles a bit, over the sound of voices blaring from the television, and takes another long drink from his bottle before slouching further against Papyrus, his face tinged blue.

“I _told_ you to stop calling me that,” he tries to huff, but the lilting grin on his face can't fully fade away. “You need t’drink more, if you can still ‘member it.”

“Mmh… naaah,” Papyrus drawls, draping an arm over Sans’ shoulders. “I mean, m’gonna drink more, but I ain't gonna forget that nickname, _Sansy._ ‘Specially if it gets you flustered like this, heh. Makes you even cuter, y’know?”

This time, a gruff sound _does_ creep out of Sans’ throat, and he reaches for Papyrus’ hand, trying clumsily to push the bottle towards the other skeleton’s face.

“Hey, _hey there,_ Sansy,” Papyrus warns, but he can't stop grinning at the attempt. “Gettin’ a lil’ handsy there, aren't ya? ...that's it. I made it _even better._ Right now, you're being--”

“ _Nope,_ ” Sans quickly shakes his head, nearly spilling his drink as he pushes a hand to Papyrus’ mouth. “Nope, don't say it, don't you--”

“ _Handsy Sansy,_ ” the taller skeleton laughs from behind Sans’ bony hand, resting his bottle against his chest. “That's what you are. You're being _Handsy Sansy._ Oh man, I'm gonna have _fun_ with this--”

He isn't expecting Sans to climb into his lap, face twisted up in something crossed between a scowl and a pout -- but he can't help but grin a little wider when he sees that expression, and sinks deeper into the couch.

“Yes?” Papyrus asks, reaching up with one hand to pull Sans’ away from his mouth. “Can I help you?”

“Yeah, actually,” Sans huffs, narrowing his eyesockets just a little at Papyrus. “There's, uh… something only _you_ can do for me, buddy.”

“Mmh, yeah? What's, uh… what's that, Handsy Sansy?”

“Stop callin’ me that, _Paps._ Or I'm, uh…”

Sans pauses, blinks, then lets his mouth twist into the approximation of a smug grin.

“Or,” he announces, somewhat triumphantly, “I'm gonna just sit here and, uh. Block your view of the TV, heh. And -- and don’t think you’re gonna trick me into moving this time, ‘cause -- ‘cause it’s not gonna work! Not this time, _Paps._ ”

Papyrus blinks, then, with a soft smile, sets his drink on the endtable, next to a ragged red scarf.

“Alright, then.”

“...what?”

With a soft chuckle, he also gently pulls Sans’ drink out of his hand, only vaguely noticing how easily Sans lets it go as he sets the bottle by his own.

“Alright,” Papyrus repeats, and he slouches back into the couch, folding his hands over his ribs. “Not, uh… not sure how this is s’posed to be punishment, though, Sansy. You’re, uh… a lot more ente... ennertai--”

The alcohol hits him a little harder than he thought, and Papyrus lets a brief frown cross his face before he ultimately gives up on the word.

“...I like lookin’ at you more than the TV, anyway.”

He’s drunk, drunker than the last time he and Sans decided to supplement Napstabot’s show with alcohol -- and, based on the way Sans has acted, he knows the smaller skeleton is in no better condition. But Papyrus catches the way Sans’ eyelights flicker -- the way his smug grin fades, but doesn’t quite disappear from his face.

“...you’re just sayin’ that to, uh,” Sans finally starts, a tentative laugh in his voice, “t’get me outta the way, aren’t you? To try and trick me into, uh… to giving up. Well, Paps, it ain’t -- s’not gonna work this time. I’m just gonna… gonna keep sitting right here.”

Papyrus can’t stop the soft smile from forming as he reaches up with one hand towards Sans’ face.

“If you insist, kiddo,” he murmurs softly, cupping the smaller skeleton’s face as he traces his thumb over the other’s cheekbone. “Doesn't bother me at all.”

Sans is quiet -- too quiet, compared to his usually talkative drunken personality. But he slowly raises a hand to Papyrus’, his fingers tracing over the thin bones before he presses his palm against the other's.

“... you're, uh… bein’ kinda…” Sans starts, a weak laugh tinting his voice. “...kinda, well… _soft_ tonight, aren't ya, buddy…?”

Something about the tenderness in Sans’ words makes him think, but his hand lingers on the other's face, thumb softly tracing over the ridges of his broad teeth.

“‘Soft,’ huh…?” Papyrus murmurs, voice just barely more than a slur as a low groan slips from the other's mouth. “That what you wanna call… whatever this is that's goin’ on now, kiddo?”

“W-Well, I mean,” Sans breathes, even as a small shiver runs through his body. “Usually you, uh… y’got me flat on my back and beggin’ by this point, so… yeah. I think, uh… think I'd call this soft, heh.”

His mouth turns upwards into a faint smile, but only for a moment, and his thumb comes to rest over the thin divide between Sans’ front teeth.

“Does it… bother you?” he asks, face furrowing into a soft frown. “You want me to stop, or…?”

Sans hesitates, then shakes his head, holding Papyrus’ hand more closely against his cheek.

“...s’different,” he mutters, voice hazy as he softly squeezes the other’s fingers. “...but it's… s’kinda nice, y’know…? Just… it feels, y’know, feels like…”

He pauses, and Papyrus catches the small frown that passes over his face before Sans’ expression eases back to its familiar, lazy grin.

“Sorry,” Sans laughs, eyes half-closing as he looks down. “I'm just rambling again, huh…? I'm prolly not really makin’ much sense, heh--”

His words slip into a soft gasp as Papyrus pulls him close, free hand moving to rest on Sans’ hip and massaging gently.

“M’pretty sure I understand,” Papyrus murmurs, pulling him in to press his teeth to Sans’ in a soft movement.

For a moment, only a moment, Sans is stiff from the gesture; it isn't long, though, before Papyrus feels the smaller skeleton sink against him, a quiet moan slipping past his teeth as he grasps at Papyrus’ hoodie. Papyrus, too, sinks back -- sinks into the couch, letting Sans’ weight rest against him, the soothing hum of his magic so much warmer than the frenetic rush he's used to, washing over him and…

Sans shifts further into Papyrus’ lap, and the soft press of their hips pushing together coaxes a soft moan from them both -- but it's not a carnal desire that floods through Papyrus’ bones. It's something… deeper, something powerful, something that makes him afraid to let go of Sans for even a moment, and--

“H-Hey… S-Sans, I…”

He feels Sans pause before pulling away, still close enough for his shaky breath to brush over Papyrus’ teeth; Papyrus swallows, his own breath escaping as an uneven sigh before he brings himself to look into the other skeleton’s eyesockets.

“...you wanna, uh…” he begins, his thoughts piecing together in the wrong order. “...how ‘bout we, um…”

“Yeah…?” Sans murmurs, tone soft despite the anticipation trickling from his voice.

Papyrus inhales deeply, then sighs, sinking further into the couch as his other hand slides down to rest on Sans’ hip.

“...you wanna go up to my room tonight?”

Sans’ breath hitches audibly in his throat, and Papyrus swallows back the nerves threatening to creep into his chest as he waits for the “no” he’s sure to get…  

“...yeah,” the smaller skeleton finally nods, voice cracking quietly around the edges. “Alright.”

Papyrus’ grip on Sans’ hips tightens, just a little, and he finally lets a small grin linger on his face.

“C'mon, then,” he says, lightly nodding his head towards the door to his room. “We, uh, we’re not gonna get anywhere fast unless y’move, heh.”

“R… right, heh. Sorry…”

Papyrus can’t tell if the note of reluctance in Sans’ voice is real or imagined -- but he still moves, sliding off the taller skeleton’s lap to slump on the couch. But even without the weight on his lap to hold him down, Papyrus hesitates before standing, his hand never quite fully pulling away from Sans’ body.

“...h-hey, uh… Papyrus, I…”

He looks down, and just barely catches the flash of hesitance crossing Sans’ face before it shifts into one of his traditional, lazy grins.

“...you should carry me,” Sans drawls, folding his hands over his ribs. “So I can, y’know… save my energy, heh. S’a long walk up those stairs, yeah?”

Papyrus raises a browbone, but can’t stop the faint smile from gracing his face as he chuckles at Sans.

“You say this to the guy who… well, m’kinda surprised I’m even, y’know, standing up straight right now,” he teases, but leans down towards Sans all the same. “We’ll see how this goes, heh. C’mon, you lazybones…”

Sans grins, then scoots softly towards Papyrus as the taller skeleton scoops him into his arms, lifting him off the couch with only a half-stagger back to regain his balance.

“Hey, y’did pretty good, _Paps,_ ” Sans laughs, rolling his head back to grin up at Papyrus. “Well… didn't drop me, at least, heh. Keep it up, yeah?”

There's something about Sans’ smile, about the way he fits so comfortably in his arms -- and Papyrus catches himself staring at the smaller skeleton, breath caught up in his chest…

“...Papyrus?”

He suddenly realizes he hasn't moved yet, and clears his throat, forcing a small smile.

“Don't sound too happy ‘bout that, kiddo,” Papyrus chuckles, still looking Sans in the eye. “Wait ‘til we get up the stairs before you thank me for not dropping you, heh.”

Sans grins, then closes his eyes as Papyrus finally starts walking, albeit slowly, towards the stairs.

* * *

The stairs proved less of a challenge than he thought they would, but Sans is already heavy in his arms by the time he finally pushes open his bedroom door, staggering in.

“Sleepin’ already, kiddo?” Papyrus can't help but tease, even as he stumbles towards the mattress sprawled out on the floor. “Dunno why I keep forgetting how much of a lightweight you are, heh…”

“M’not sleepin’,” Sans protests, but his voice is a hazy murmur -- and even as Papyrus lays him on the mattress, his eyes stay closed for a little longer. “Just… restin’, s’all.”

Papyrus snorts, and sits cross-legged on the bed before softly resting his hand on Sans’ chest, fingers tracing idly over the other's collarbone. But as a small, contented sound escapes Sans’ throat, Papyrus pauses, then taps a fingertip against the bone.

“You look… different,” he mutters, his browbones furrowing softly. “...can't put my finger on why, though…”

“Mm, ‘zat so?” Sans replies, humming softly. “Why's that, I wonder…?”

Papyrus doesn't respond right away; instead, he slips his fingers under the neckband of Sans’ t-shirt, rubbing against the lower vertebrae of his neck

“Nnh…”

Even Sans’ soft groan, and the way he tilts his head back to expose a little more of his neck, isn’t quite enough to distract Papyrus from feeling like something’s changed, something’s _missing,_ something like…

“...you're not wearing your scarf?”

“Mmh?”

Sans finally opens one eye, as though it takes all the effort in his body just to lazily gaze at the taller skeleton.

“Your scarf,” Papyrus repeats, tracing his fingers over Sans’ neck. “You're not wearing it?”

“Oh… guess I'm not, huh?” Sans shrugs, but his words quiver at the end as Papyrus’ fingers dip into the spaces between his vertebrae. “Haven't, uh… haven't worn it for a while, now. Y’didn't notice?”

Papyrus frowns softly, trying to think back on even just the past few days -- but it's hard, hard to put his hazy thoughts back in order, to try and remember when he last saw Sans wearing that tattered red scarf, which might have been…

“...don’t think I’ve seen you with it since, uh…” he finally decides, looking at Sans for confirmation. “Since we called your bro the, the first time, yeah?”

“Mmh… sounds about right,” Sans agrees, mouth twisting in a lazy smile. “Didn’t, um… well. This is gonna sound kinda, y’know… childish, but s’like I… didn’t really… need it anymore. ‘Cause, I know he’s…”

In the silence that settles over them both, Papyrus notices Sans’ face stiffen, just a bit, before the smaller skeleton sighs quietly.

“...I think… it was finally worth it… y’know?” he murmurs, his words slurring together. “I, I kinda acc -- ‘cepted that I'm probably, well, not… not gonna go home--”

“Sans, don't say that--”

“But if… if it _worked,_ if he -- if my brother's _alive_ , then… then it was _worth it,_ y’know? I… all the, the shit I did, that I _went through,_ it… if he's alive, then… that's -- s’all that matters, in the end. I can… I can live with anything if… if he's…”

Sans trails off for a moment as Papyrus quietly slides his hand down, slipping it into the smaller skeleton’s and squeezing tight.

“...but it, y’know… it’d be nice if, if I could… see his face… one more time… y’know?”

There’s a heavy silence that hangs in the air, stifling them both, and even the soft, nervous laugh that finally creeps out of Sans’ throat isn’t quite enough to dissipate it.

“Sorry,” he chuckles, feebly moving to push himself up. “You, uh… y’brought me up here ‘cause there -- there was a mood, wasn’t there? And I -- I went and ruined it. I’m, uh, pretty good at that, heh. I’ll just… I’m gonna go back to the, the couch. I’ll, uh, I’ll see you in the morning--”

He pauses suddenly, not expecting to feel Papyrus’ hand rest softly on his sternum -- not pushing him down, but just enough to hold him in place.

“...stay here tonight,” Papyrus mumbles, flicking his gaze towards Sans. “I… Sans, there’s -- I mean, I don’t want you to, uh…”

He tries to piece his thoughts together, words slipping in and out of focus, but eventually sighs, his hand gripping softly at Sans’ t-shirt.

“... just… stay here tonight. ...please.”

Sans’ face doesn’t shift, the hesitant, not-quite smile still lingering at the corners of his mouth as he stares up at Papyrus. And Papyrus is reviewing the ten, twenty -- probably hundred other ways he could have asked Sans without sounding like an idiot -- or worse, like this is a demand instead of an offer. But he still doesn’t look away, his own eyes fixed on Sans’ face, waiting.

“...alright.”

A breath escapes him, low and shaky and forcing itself past Papyrus’ teeth as he watches Sans slowly lie back on the mattress.

“You… you sure?” he asks, even as he finds himself leaning over Sans, reaching for the puffy red blanket bundled alongside the mattress. “I just… if you’re not comfortable with that, you don’t have to--”

“D’you always second-guess when I tell you ‘yeah’?” Sans interrupts, and there’s a soft laugh in his voice as his smile relaxes. “... c’mon. I’ll feel weird if I’m the only one sleepin’ in _your_ bed, _Paps._ ”

Papyrus can’t help but chuckle at that, and he lays himself beside Sans, draping the blanket over them both. As he settles into the mattress, lying on his back, Sans rolls against him, one hand softly grabbing at Papyrus’ hoodie as he rests his head on the taller skeleton’s shoulder.

“And b’sides, your bed’s… a lot more comfy than sleepin’ on your couch,” Sans hums quietly, his words already tinged with a heavy note of sleep as he slackens against Papyrus. “I’ll have to try and… not get too used to this, heh.”

Papyrus can’t quite look at Sans’ face, not with the way the smaller skeleton’s head is nestled into his shoulder. But he slides an arm under Sans’ body, wrapping it around his back and pulling him in close -- close enough to feel the fretful hum of magic that doesn’t match the easy tone of his voice.

“...It’s alright, Sans,” he murmurs, clicking his teeth softly to Sans’ forehead. “Get as comfortable as you want. I don’t mind.”

The nervous edge to Sans’ magic slowly starts to dissipate, and the last thing Papyrus feels before he finally drifts off to sleep is the soft sense of calm radiating from Sans’ body, washing over them both.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone who thought the last few chapters meant Sans and Papyrus were finally gonna be unerringly happy -- the story's not even half done, so don't you worry, there's plenty of sad left to be had.
> 
> I do have a question for everyone though, and this was posed to me by some dear friends who love to bully me with kindness. Assuming -- _assuming_ I get the proper permissions from the relevant parties -- I was asked by a few friends if i was considering selling this story as an actual, physical book. If I did it -- again, _if_ I did it -- I'd probably print it in sections (like a small series -- this is going to be a _long_ fic) and in small numbers, and would probably only charge enough to cover printing/shipping costs. Would anyone be at all interested in owning a physical copy of this... _thing_ I have created?


	21. *Fits of Passion

_The soft feeling of Sans’ fingers tracing over his cheekbone pulls him from his sleep, and Papyrus smiles, eyes still closed._

_“Having fun there, kiddo?” he asks, lazily reaching up to rest his hand over the other’s. “Didn't think my face was that interesting, heh.”_

_“Heh… sorry, Paps,” Sans chuckles, hand slowly curling to cup the side of Papyrus’ face. “Didn’t mean to wake you up just yet.”_

_Papyrus’ smile widens, and he opens his eyes._

_Sans is in front of him, his own mouth pulled into an easy grin, and he slides closer to Papyrus until their foreheads touch. Papyrus feels the low, steady hum of magic rolling off of Sans’ bones, and he doesn’t fight the urge to pull him in, hand tracing easily over the vertebrae of Sans’ spine._

_“You sleep well last night, at least?” the taller skeleton asks, rubbing his forehead against Sans’ in a soft nuzzle. “Seemed kinda restless to start…”_

_“Mm… slept alright, I guess,” Sans admits, and he trills softly at Papyrus’ small gesture. “Best part was getting to wake up next to you, though… heh. Wouldn’t mind getting to do it more often… if you don’t mind.”_

_Papyrus chuckles, and does nothing to hide the faint orange glow that creeps over his face._

_“I wouldn’t mind that at all, kiddo,” he hums, moving to click his teeth against Sans’ in a gentle motion. “I could wake up next to you every day, if you wanted.”_

_He feels a shiver creep up Sans’ spine, and the smaller skeleton’s hand on his face tightens its grip, just a bit._

_“I’d like that,” Sans murmurs, softly pushing his body against Papyrus’ as he returns the soft kiss. “I’d really,_ **_really_ ** _like that, Paps.”_

_“Mmh… Sans…”_

_He feels a quiet groan escape him, growing louder as Sans rolls onto him--_

Papyrus’ eyes snap open as he hears the distant crash of something shattering, coupled with an indistinct but loud curse.

For a few moments, he stares at the ceiling, soul pounding in his chest as the rush of emotion from his dreams follows him into consciousness. But it’s not long before reality catches back up to him, and he sighs, rubbing his eyes tiredly before sitting up.

The dreams haven’t really stopped since his confession a few weeks ago -- but it’s been some time since they’ve been so _vivid_. Even now, as the soft edges of sleep melt away from his mind, Papyrus can feel the warmth of Sans’ magic washing over him, hear the soft shiver of contentment in Sans’ voice…

There’s another crash, longer and louder than the one that woke him up, and Papyrus jolts, reaching down to grab at Sans’ arm only to find the space beside him is empty.

“Sans--?”

Papyrus looks around, and finds himself alone in the room he remembers sharing with Sans earlier in the night. There’s a moment of confusion before he puts two and two together, but he quickly scrambles out of bed the moment he does, rushing towards the door.

“Sans?” he calls out, and there’s a note of worry in his voice as he leans over the railing for the landing. “Sans, you alright?”

He hears a loud, pained groan from the kitchen, and Papyrus hurries down the stairs, quickly rounding the corner to find--

“ _Sans?_ ”

Broken shards of glass and ceramic are scattered around Sans, collapsed against the cabinets. He tries to grab at the countertop to pull himself back to his feet, but slips in the puddle of booze under him, falling back to the ground with a hard thud.

“Sans, are you alright?” Papyrus asks, careful not to step on the debris as he approaches the smaller skeleton. “I heard you from upstairs--”

“No, go -- go _‘way,_ Paps, jus’...”

His swat towards the other is half-hearted at best, but Papyrus nearly falls back anyways in his surprise.

“S-Sans--?”

“Jus’ don't… don't _bother_ me,” Sans repeats, his voice a heavy slur as he rubs his head. “ _Ngh…_ ”

For a few moments, Papyrus stares in shocked silence, wondering if it's really Sans he's looking at. But his eyes eventually take in the full sight of the mess around them, and he realizes that the smell of alcohol reaching him is not just from the spilled beer on the floor.

“...have you… Sans, have you been _drinking?_ ”

“Nope,” Sans grunts, staring at his free hand like there should be a bottle in it. “Always smell like this. Y’haven’t -- haven't noticed by now?”

“I--” Papyrus begins, but quickly stops himself once he realizes just how terse his voice has really become. “...how _long_ have you been drinking down here by yourself?”

“Hhmmm… well, I'm still consha -- consh -- … still awake, so, y’know… not long enough, I think. Not… not _fast_ enough, at least. Heh.”

Sans closes his eyes, a thick, self-satisfied smile sprawling across his face that belies the hard snark of his voice. Papyrus blinks, numb to the quiet fury growing in his soul until it nearly boils over the moment he grabs Sans’ shirt, yanking him close.

“I said quit _buggin’_ me--”

“You think this is _funny?_ ” he seethes, fighting to keep some semblance of control over his voice. “I woke up ‘cause you were breaking things down here, I -- I thought you were in _trouble,_ and you’re just _drunk?_ ”

“Like you ain't never been drunk,” Sans drawls, wholly unfettered by Papyrus’ anger. “Hell, you -- you were drunk with me earlier, I don't see what the _problem_ is--”

“The prob -- what the hell are you doing drinking now _anyway,_ Sans? S’gotta be, what, two? Three in the morning? And you're down here drinking, _alone?_ ”

“ _Sheesh,_ sorry, _Mom._ Nes’ time m’gonna screw up I'll make sure t’get yer _permission._ ”

Papyrus lets Sans push his hand away, eyes fixed in disbelief on the smaller skeleton in front of him. After a few long, agonizing moments spent cycling between rage and utter confusion, he finally sinks his head into one hand, rubbing his forehead as he forces everything under a thick veneer of frustration.

“Will you at least tell me _why_ , Sans?” he growls, teeth gritted to fight back his emotions. “Can you at least do _that_ much?”

“Why, so you can go ‘n ‘fix’ errything?” Sans drawls, his words accompanied by a derisive snort. “Yeah, I'll _pass,_ thanks.”

“It's not -- _Sans,_ stop being _difficult_ and just _tell me,_ for Christ's sake--”

“ _Lookit me, I'm P’pyrus, an’ I can fix alllll your problems jus’ by listenin’ to ya--_ ”

“Sans, can you _stop_ being _difficult_ for _two fucking minutes--_ ”

“ _An’ everything’s gonna be a-okay ‘cause I’m here t’listen all your problems away~_ Oh, y’could turn that into a… a slogan? ‘Zat the word I’m thinkin’--”

“ _God_ **_damnit, Sans,_ ** _will you just_ **_tell me why you’re doing this!!_ ** ”

Even Sans is silent as Papyrus’ words ring, painfully loud and clear, in the small kitchen. And when the smile finally creeps back to his face, it doesn't look quite as certain as before.

“H… heh, that's… wow, Paps,” the smaller skeleton laughs, quiet -- forced. “Ain't seen you so mad in a, a _while._ Fuh… forgot how _loud_ you got…”

“Would you just _stop?!_ ” Papyrus barks, no longer bothering to hide the fury in his voice or his expression. “Would you stop treating this like a fucking _joke,_ or are you too far gone to even do _that?!_ ”

“C -- C’mon, Paps, s’not -- that ain’t very nice, heh--”

“I mean, for _fuck’s sake, look_ at yourself right now! Are you _enjoying_ this, Sans?! Do you _like_ being a fucking _wreck?! Christ--_ ”

“Ph… Paps, why’re you _yellin’, quit it_ \--”

“Why am I -- because I _fucking_ **_care_ ** _about you, Sans!_ I _care about you_ and you -- you do _shit like this--!_ ”

“ _Maybe I don’t want you to care about me!!_ ”

The hard scowl on his face flickers, and Papyrus’ breath hitches in his throat as Sans finally screams back, his own expression twisted up in rage.

“ _What did you say?_ ” he seethes, his soul still burning, knowing there’s no way Sans just said--

“ _You heard me!_ ” the smaller skeleton shouts, slamming his fist into the cabinet door beside him. “Ever think ‘bout _that, huh?!_ Y’ever think I -- that maybe I don't fuckin’ _want you to care ‘bout me?!_ Like -- like it ain't fuckin’ hard _enough_ for me already, you -- y’go an’, an’ make everything even worse than it already is, and--”

Sans stutters, mouth tripping over his words for a few moments before he gives up, clutching his head with a pained whine.

“... Sans, what -- what are you talking about?” Papyrus demands, but the hard edge of his emotions softens, and he can't keep up the scowl on his face. “I -- I don't understand, how am I making this--”

“J-Just _stop,_ okay?” Sans interrupts, his own voice thick as Papyrus hears him choke back a sob. “Stop it, _stop it,_ stop being _so goddamn… fuckin’--_ ”

He hiccups, interrupting his own thoughts, then wraps his arms tight around himself as he pulls his knees into his chest.

For all the ire in his soul not moments ago, Papyrus feels an uncomfortable swell of pain in his chest, forcing out his anger and leaving a sour taste of the emotion in his mouth.

“Sans, I… I still don't understand,” he says, reaching tentatively towards Sans before thinking twice about the gesture. “Please, just -- _tell me_ what I'm doing wrong. _Please._ ”

“... s-see, you're still… y’still fuckin’ _doin’ it,_ I just -- _why,_ Paps, why’re you _still doin’ this--_ ”

“Doing _what,_ Sans?”

Sans freezes, an ugly sound still lodged halfway in his throat before he finally glances back at Papyrus.

But he doesn't speak.

“ _Sans,_ ” he pleads, finally deciding to place his hand on Sans’ shoulder after all. “I just -- _help me understand what's wrong_.”

His expression doesn't fall nearly so quick -- but Sans’ eyelights flicker in their sockets, and the noise finally frees itself as his whole body shudders violently at Papyrus’ touch.

“That's… _it,_ though,” he croaks, no semblance of control in his voice. “That's the _problem._ You… you fuckin’ _get it,_ you -- y’already _understand,_ an’ I don't -- I wish you _didn't,_ ‘cause I--”

“W-Wait, I don't -- _what_ do I understand--?”

“ _Me, Paps!_ ” Sans cries, slapping his chest with both hands. “You understand _me!_ An’ I _hate it,_ Paps, I fuckin’ _hate it,_ I don't -- _I don't want you to!!_ ”

With an anguished cry, Sans finally melts down in front of Papyrus, body curled in a tight ball from the force of his sobs -- and Papyrus freezes, pulling his hand back as he feels the last traces of his anger being scraped out with each of Sans’ cries, leaving him painfully hollow.

“... S… Sans, I -- I don't--” he tries, piecing together enough of his emotions to force himself to speak. “Wh… why? _Why is that a bad thing?_ ”

Sans doesn’t answer, his desperate sobs filling the small kitchen as he curls tighter into himself. But when Papyrus tries to place his hand back on the smaller skeleton’s shoulder, he flinches, hard enough for the contact to break.

“Sans, _please,_ ” he begs, forcing himself not to slide a little closer once Sans’ crying finally begins to subside. “ _Please._ Tell me why it's -- why you don't want me to… to--”

“C… Cuh… S’cause, you -- nuh, _nobody else_ \-- P-Paps, you…”

It’s hard to understand Sans through his slur, and he trails off, as though even just trying is painful. But Papyrus waits, watching carefully as Sans slowly starts to uncurl on the floor, still not looking up.

“... ‘cause… no one else _gets it, Paps,_ ” he finally admits, voice weak as he rubs a hand over the length of his tibia. “The, the resets, they -- no one else _‘members them,_ but I -- f-fuck, I, there's… still times I wake up thinkin’ s’all just gonna go back, an’ they ain't -- they don't _change, none_ of ‘em, not -- not even my…”

Sans hiccups, and Papyrus’ chest tightens as something in him anticipates another round of inconsolable crying. But Sans just shivers, then slowly wraps his arms around his stomach.

“... but… got used to it… y’know?” he continues, the sharp edge of his panic finally softening. “Got used t’... t’being the only one that ‘members. Got used to bein’... looked at _diff’rent_ than b’fore, ‘cause y’can’t -- y’can’t _fake_ not knowin’ what happened, yeah? Not -- not when it keeps _happening,_ and…”

He reflexively twitches his shoulder away, but this time, Papyrus makes his hand follow until it’s resting on Sans’ upper arm, gently but undeniably there. For a moment, as he feels the other’s still-restless magic, Papyrus wonders if Sans might try swatting him away -- but he doesn't even look at the hand on his arm, instead glancing down at the floor beneath him.

“... but, then -- I, I fucked up,” Sans mumbles, choking a bit on the sound of his own words. “Got -- got _tired of it_ , tried to --t’ _change it,_ wound up _here_ an’ -- an’ I met _you,_ an’ you… y’ _get it._ You _understand._ And -- _shit,_ Paps, I… I forgot how much I fuckin’ _missed it._ Missed it so -- so _goddamn much,_ an’ now, I… I--”

He tenses, and Sans’ face screws up in a pained expression as he starts pulling his knees back into his chest.

“...I fucked up,” he whimpers, clawing softly at his face. “I fucked up, I _really fucked up--_ ”

“H-Hey, kiddo,” Papyrus interrupts, and it’s all he can do to force the calm in his voice as he gently rubs his hand over Sans’ arm. “None of that, alright? You -- you didn’t fuck up, Sans, you didn’t do anything wr--”

“ _I fucked up, Paps!_ ” the smaller skeleton cries out, shaking his head violently. “I -- all I wanted was to _go home!_ To, to _finally_ see my brother again, an’ not have everything _reset_ on me -- s’all I wanted! I didn’t… _wanna_ end up here, didn’t _wanna_ end up l- _liking you,_ didn’t… d-didn’t wanna…”

His words trail off for a moment, but Sans lets out a heavy sob that seems to come from his very soul, and he continues:

“... didn’t… wanna… h-have to _choose_ b‘tween… wantin’ to go home or, or stayin’ here w-with you, ‘cause I… I can’t do it, Paps, I _can’t, I can’t pick--!_ ”

Another hiccuping sob escapes his throat before Sans breaks down again, curling into himself as his heavy bawling fills the room. And he tries to say something, _do_ something, do _anything_ to comfort him -- but Papyrus finds himself frozen in place, eyes open but unseeing as Sans’ words weigh on his soul, playing over and over in his mind--

_“AllI wanted was to go home, I didn’t… wanna end up_ **_liking_ ** _you, didn’t wanna have to choose…!”_

It’s a small retching sound that finally pulls him back to reality, and Papyrus looks down -- then quickly lifts Sans’ torso from the floor, just moments before the smaller skeleton empties the contents of his stomach onto the ground. The acrid stench of vomit and alcohol quickly hits him, and Papyrus grimaces as he looks away, but he continues holding Sans up -- until Sans’ body finally stops twitching, and he instead grasps feebly at the sleeve of the other’s hoodie.

“... I fucked up,” the smaller skeleton mumbles, breathing heavily but otherwise unmoving. “... didn’t I?”

Papyrus opens his mouth, and manages to make a few small sounds that could have been the start of assurances. But his words have left him, and all he can do is tighten his shaking hold on Sans.

Sans slowly, silently brings his forearm to his mouth, wiping the sick from his teeth before wrapping his arms tightly around his stomach.

“... I don’t wanna be here anymore,” he whispers, voice hoarse. “...wanna go back to bed.”

Something in him finally loosens its hold, and Papyrus breathes deep, ignoring the smells in the kitchen.

“...let’s get you cleaned up, first,” Papyrus murmurs, looping an arm around Sans’ back and lifting gently. “C’mon.”

Sans doesn’t fight the soft gesture, and shakily lifts himself enough for Papyrus to pick him up and carry him out of the kitchen.

“M’sorry,” he slurs quietly, his lead leaning into Papyrus’ shoulder. “M’sorry, I… didn’t, this… isn’t what I…”

He trails off, and there’s a brief pause before Papyrus feels Sans shudder in his arms.

“...Ph… Papyrus…?”

“...I know, kiddo,” he finally answers, his voice strained. “I know you are, I…”

Papyrus breathes deep, then pulls Sans a little tighter against him.

“...I’m sorry, too.”

* * *

It’s the better part of an hour before he finally hears Sans drain the tub, but Papyrus doesn’t mind as he stretches out his legs, continuing to wait patiently in the hall. Instead, he listens for the sound of Sans dropping the wet towel on the floor, then the sound of clothes being shuffled around, then finally…

“Hey, kiddo,” he greets tiredly, looking up as the bathroom door finally opens. “You feel any better?”

Sans doesn’t look at him, sockets gazing down at the too-long pajama pants still folded in his arms; but he gives a small grunt of acknowledgement as Papyrus pushes himself to his feet, joints popping softly.

“Heh… looks like I was right,” the taller skeleton chuckles quietly, reaching out to lightly tug on the black sleeve of the two-toned hoodie he’d brought for Sans to wear. “Looks better on you than it did on me. Fits you well, kiddo.”

The weak, forced smile on his face quickly fades as he notices Sans’ hands tighten into the clothes he’s holding.

“...sorry,” he mutters, looking away. “I’ll stop.”

“No, it -- s’fine,” Sans finally shakes his head, but he still doesn’t bring himself to look at Papyrus. “You’re fine. ...thank you for the hoodie.”

Papyrus manages another smile, but only for a moment before he hesitantly places a hand on Sans’ back.

“C’mon,” he murmurs, gently turning Sans towards the bedroom. “Let’s head back to bed, yeah? Try and get a little sleep, at least.”

Sans doesn’t answer, but he quietly follows Papyrus’ soft lead, trailing a step or two behind him as they climb the stairs.

“...I should… clean up the kitchen, first,” he mumbles quietly, gaze cast down. “Clean up the… the mess I made.”

“S’fine,” Papyrus shakes his head, hand still making tentative contact with the other’s shoulder. “I, uh… I already took care of it, kiddo. You don’t have to worry about it.”

“...oh.”

Sans doesn’t stop following him, but Papyrus looks back anyway, and notices the traces of pain in the other’s previously exhausted expression.

“...sorry,” the smaller skeleton murmurs, barely audible over the creak of the steps. “It was… my mess, I… should’ve been the one to… to clean it up. ...you didn’t have to do that.”

He wants to assure Sans that it’s fine, that it’s no big deal, that he’d already decided he was going to clean it, anyway -- but none of his thoughts are translating to actual words, so instead, he waits at the top of the staircase for Sans, watching quietly.

_I’m sorry, Sans… I didn’t mean to make things this hard on you, I didn’t… want you to suffer more… I--_

“Papyrus…?”

Sans is finally looking up at him, almost doubtfully, and Papyrus realizes he’s been staring.

“Sorry,” he quickly apologizes, shaking his head briefly before rubbing his neck. “Sorry, just… thinking. ...should probably stop doing it before bed, or one of these days I’m gonna hurt myself.”

The corners of Sans’ mouth twitch upward into a temporary smile -- but he catches it, and returns the soft expression with one of his own, extending his hand slightly towards the smaller skeleton. Sans hesitates, but only for a moment before taking it, his fingers curling loosely around Papyrus’ palm as they finally walk into the bedroom.

Despite his desire to, Papyrus is careful not to squeeze Sans’ hand, and says nothing when it eventually slips out of his as they both sit down on the mattress. But he does reach up to lightly caress Sans’ arm, and the smaller skeleton doesn’t protest, legs crossed as he plays with the ribbing along the bottom of the hoodie.

“...you feelin’ any better, kiddo?” Papyrus decides to ask, voice soft with concern.

“...no,” Sans admits quietly, shaking his head. “I mean, I do, but -- not really…? I just… god, everything’s so fucked up, and now you… heh. Now you know all about it. That’s, y’know, just… _great._ Just… ... _great._ ”

A tired, mirthless laugh escapes him, but there's a soft pause before he finally looks up at Papyrus.

“... but hey,” he finally continues, a weak smile crossing over his face. “If I was gonna fuck up like that… at least it was in front of someone I trust… yeah?”

Papyrus’ breath catches, and he stares at Sans, waiting for the other's face to crack into one of his loose, teasing grins. But the smaller skeleton’s expression remains cautiously hopeful, even as the taller skeleton’s hand slowly curls into the other's sleeve, holding tight.

“... you mean it, kiddo?” Papyrus asks, a certain strain in his voice he can't quite smooth over. “That you… you really…?”

“Not much point in lying about it now, is there?” Sans chuckles, and Papyrus’ heart can't help but lighten at the sound. “Already had the meltdown and everything… heh.”

Sans laughs again, and this time, Papyrus joins in, though softly as he slides his hand between Sans’ shoulders to pull him in close.

“I'm here for you, Sans,” he murmurs quietly, clicking his teeth to the other's skull before resting their foreheads together. “Dunno how much good I'll be to you, but… I'm here for you. I promise.”

There's a moment of quiet before a low sound of contentment escapes Sans, and he finally relaxes under Papyrus’ gentle touch, closing his eyes. Papyrus smiles, feeling the soft hum of magic from Sans’ body, and he kisses the other's forehead once more, lingering a little.

“Mmh…”

He wasn’t expecting more than possibly another calm sigh from Sans, and pauses at the soft near-groan that slips from between the other's teeth. But the magic rolling from his bones is relaxed, and he's soft under the other's gentle touch -- so Papyrus only hesitates a few moments before leaning in, pressing his teeth to Sans’.

“A-Ah… mmhh, Ph… Paps…”

Sans’ words brush lightly against his teeth, and Papyrus shivers, hand slowly moving to rest against the exposed bone of Sans’ neck. The smaller skeleton keens at the touch, leaning to push himself against Papyrus, fingers hooking into the other's hoodie.

_Just a kiss,_ Papyrus reminds himself, even as he catches himself pulling Sans in closer, fingers rubbing the spaces between his vertebrae. _Just a kiss… S’all this is, just… a kiss…_

He's still telling this to himself even as Sans’ arms wrap slowly around his neck; even as he follows Sans’ gentle pull, until the smaller skeleton’s back is pressed into the mattress, his own weight over him; even as Sans, with a soft, eager whine, tilts his head back to better expose his neck to the other's warm tongue, already tracing over the heated bone…

“Pah… _Paaaps,_ ” Sans gasps, words shuddered by his low, thick moan as he pulls Papyrus tight against him. “P- _Please,_ Paps, I -- _nnhhh~~_ ”

“Mmnhh, _Sans,_ ” Papyrus groans, his free hand sliding up Sans’ bare leg to rest at his hip, his tongue following the curve of the other’s jaw. “ _Please,_ let me… let me take care of you tonight…”

Sans’ moan quivers again, and his hips twitch in response to Papyrus’ touch; but brings his legs up, wrapping them around the other’s waist, and his hands move to curl his fingers along Papyrus’ jaw, holding his face against his neck.

“Please,” the smaller skeleton whines, and Papyrus hears the control in his voice slowly coming undone. “ _Please_ , Paps, d-don't sto--!”

His words cut off, replaced by a surprised, shaking moan -- and Papyrus relishes the sound, pulling Sans’ hips into his own once more to elicit the same delightful noise.

“Don't what, Sans?” he breathes, voice hazy as he languidly traces his tongue over the heated bones of Sans’ neck. “Didn't quite catch that…”

“Don't… don't _stop,_ ” Sans finally moans, and his spine arches off the mattress as Papyrus continues rocking their hips together. “God, _Paps,_ just -- whatever you _want,_ just _don't stop, aaahhh~~!_ ”

Papyrus groans thickly, savoring the soft grind of Sans’ pelvis against his own before he pushes a hand up the other's sweater, fingers entwining in Sans’ ribs.

“A-aa _hhh,_ Pa -- _Papyrus--!_ ”

Sans cries out, and his whole body jerks in response to Papyrus’ rough hold -- but then Papyrus runs his fingers along the spaces between his ribs, caressing the underside of the sensitive bone, and Sans softens beneath him, hands lazily slipping to hook on the neckline of Papyrus’ hoodie.

“Unnhhh… _Paaaps,_ ” Sans moans, body rolling softly into the other's as his legs lazily tighten around Papyrus’ hips. “ _Mmh,_ muh… more, _please, Paps…_ ”

“ _Shit, kiddo,_ ” Papyrus breathes against Sans’ neck, the hands on Sans’ hip caressing less than gently as he outlines the curves of the other's upper ribs. “ _God,_ if you could fuckin’ _see_ yourself right now… _mmhh, Sans,_ I--”

“Ph, _Papyrus, hhhnh,_ I -- I want, I _need this,_ I -- I need _you, please,_ I _\-- aah~!_ ”

His thick, desperate pleading quickly melts into a heady cry, and he lets go of Papyrus’ hoodie in favor of curling his hands into the stretched-out sheets on the mattress above his head.

“ _Paaaps,_ ” he whines, feeling the other's now-exposed hips continuing to grind less than gently against his own. “A- _aahhh,_ Pah, _Phhapyrus,_ keep -- keep _going, pleaaase~~!_ ”

Papyrus can barely manage more than a thick, starved growl, and his hand finishes pushing down the waistband of his pants before he grabs Sans’ hip again, holding him steady before rocking into him once more. Through his own heated haze of pleasure, he hears Sans cry out, feeling the other's small body push hard against his own, feeling his magic wash over him in intoxicating waves, and--

“Ff _fuuuck, Saaans,_ ” he moans, the hand curled in Sans’ ribs letting go to push up his borrowed hoodie. “God, _fuck,_ I just -- I wanna _hear_ you, Sans, I wanna hear you _beg for it--_ ”

“Hh _aah,_ Ph, _Phaaaps,_ ” Sans slurs, his face alight in a thick blue glow as he curves his spine for Papyrus. “ _Mmhh,_ muh… _more, please,_ w-want _more,_ want -- _you,_ Paps, I _need_ you, _plea~se~~!_ ”

It's all he can do not to drive Sans hard into the mattress, to make him moan and scream and _beg_ for release; but another hungry growl of desire frees itself from his throat, and he rocks hard into Sans, pressing his face against the side of the other's skull.

“I need you too, Sans,” Papyrus groans, savoring every heated cry slipping from Sans’ throat as he keeps grinding. “God, _fuck,_ I fuckin’ _need you, Sans,_ when you look like this I just -- wanna fuckin’ make you _mine, ffhuuuck--_ ”

“ _Aa~nnnh,_ Ph, _Papyrus,_ I -- do it, _please,_ m-make me -- _yours,_ m’ _yours, aaahhh~~!_ ”

The heat rising from Sans’ bones is nearly as intoxicating as the desperate pitch of sound coming from his throat -- and Papyrus drowns himself in the sensation, rocking harder into the smaller skeleton, wanting more, _needing_ more, needing--

“Hh _haa_ \-- _a-aah--?!_ ”

Sans suddenly shifts, out of time with the hard push of Papyrus grinding against him, the reverie of ecstatic moans broken by a surprised gasp. Papyrus doesn't quite recoil, but he stops just as quickly, only pulling back enough to break contact and meet Sans’ shocked look with his own.

Sans’ legs have loosened their hold on Papyrus’ hips, but not so much that he can't still feel his cock slide over the slick folds of Sans’ pussy.

“... P-Paps, uh…” Sans finally speaks, a note of breathlessness still in his voice. “I, um… I think we might, uh… might’ve got a little bit too… into it…?”

“Y… yeah, just a… just a bit,” Papyrus agrees, but can't bring himself to pull away from Sans. “C-Can't, um… can't say I was expecting _this_ tonight, heh…”

He knows he should separate from Sans, to disentangle himself from the other skeleton, at least until his own magic has settled down. But Sans’ legs are still wrapped around him, and the expression in his hazy eyelights is still soft and receptive -- and even just the sensation of his magic pressed against Sans’ is unbearably arousing, so he shifts, cupping a hand to Sans’ face.

“... s’up to you, kiddo,” Papyrus murmurs, tracing his thumb over Sans’ teeth as he stifles the urge to rock into him. “What do you want…? You… y’wanna keep going, or… or… _aah…!_ ”

His words trail off, melting into a thick groan as Sans parts his teeth, tracing his cyan tongue over Papyrus’ thumb before he rolls his hips into the other's.

“H-hh _aah_ \-- _mmgh,_ f- _fuck, Sans…!_ ”

Any semblance of resolve he'd built up is gone, lost somewhere in the heated haze of the continuous press of Sans’ slick pussy against his achingly hard cock; of Sans’ alluring, desirous expression as he licks teasingly at Papyrus’ thumb, in between his own soft, pleasured moans; of feeling Sans’ magic, rolling off him like a thick heat that threatens to consume Papyrus whole unless--

“Ffhu _uuck, Sans,_ ” Papyrus whines, rocking back into the smaller skeleton despite his intentions for self-control. “ _Mmmngh, please,_ Sans, I can't -- _hhaaah, fhu~ck, Sa~ns~!!_ ”

“ _Paaaps,_ ” Sans groans back in response, his own voice a thick slur as he reaches up with one hand, grabbing at Papyrus’ hoodie. “Paps, _please,_ m’already -- _hhnnh,_ god, _fuck, please--!_ ”

The soft tug down against Sans’ body is all it takes; Papyrus shudders, a low, ravenous growl escaping him as he finally frees his thumb from between Sans’ teeth.

“Nnh _hh,_ P -- Paps, what--?”

Sans’ protest quickly fades, replaced by a stuttering cry as Papyrus reaches down, teasing the head of his cock between the lips of his wet pussy.

“P- _Papyrusss,_ ” he gasps, his legs curling to wrap higher up on Papyrus’ spine. “Ph -- _Phhaaah~~!_ _Mmmgh,_ god, _please, Paps~!_ ”

“Look at you,” Papyrus purrs, voice hazy as he looks down at Sans, his whole body flush with an unrelenting heat. “Christ, _Sans,_ fuckin’ _look_ at you _…_ _hhh, shhhit…_ ”

Sans swallows, and, between involuntary twitches and under Papyrus’ lustful gaze, he looks up, teeth parted--

“Please,” he begs, the hand curled in Papyrus’ hoodie reaching up to stroke his face. “Paps, _please…_ ”

A thick slur of a groan slips past his teeth, and Papyrus nods, pressing his head against the smaller skeleton’s entrance before pushing in.

“A- _aah --_ hh _aaahh, aaanh~~!_ ”

He barely notices Sans rolling his head back, barely notices the fingers curling tight around his jaw -- but is _all_ too aware of the slick heat of Sans’ pussy, tight around his cock and magic pulsing near in time with his own--

“Ffh _hhuck, Saaans,_ ” Papyrus moans, sliding his hands under Sans’ shoulders to dig his hands into the sheets. “God, _fuck_ , you're so fucking _tight,_ I -- _mmmghh, Sans~!_ ”

“Hhaa _aahh!!_ Pah, _Papyrus,_ **_plea~se~~_ ** _!!_ ”

Sans’ desperate plea is all the encouragement he needs, and Papyrus rocks hard into him, pushing until Sans’ tight, wet pussy stretches over the full length of his cock, over and over, Sans shifting against the mattress with each thrust--

“ _Mmhhghhh!_ P- _Paps,_ fuh- _faster, please,_ m’suh, _close, so close --_ aah _hhaah~!_ ”

Sans’ hand slips from Papyrus’ jaw, reaching over his head to curl into the sheets; and Papyrus sees the expression on Sans’ face -- cheekbones flushed blue, uneven moans passing easily through his parted teeth, a hot mess of desire, and the hazy look of longing in his eyelights, longing for _him,_ longing for...

“ _Sans,_ ” Papyrus groans, his own breath ragged as he licks the curve of Sans’ jaw. “Fuck, _Sans,_ the way you're _lookin’_ at me, I -- _Shhhit,_ I’m, m’gonna -- _mmmnhh~~!_ ”

“Hh _aah,_ god, _Paps -- please, I'm~!_ ”

Sans’ pussy clenches hard around him mid-thrust, his voice a desperate slur of sound -- and Papyrus loses himself, slamming hard into the smaller skeleton as he chases his own release because he's close, he's _so fucking close--_

“Pah, _Phaaaps--!_ C-cuh, I, _cumming--!! Hhaa~~_ **_Paaah--!!_ ** ”

Another wave of Sans’ magic tightening around his cock and Papyrus comes undone, unaware of his own heavy moans as he thrusts into Sans through his orgasm. But he feels Sans’ pussy slicken even further as it tightens around him, feels his chest push hard against his own as his back arches off the mattress -- and Papyrus lets go of the sheets to wrap an arm behind Sans’ back, pulling him in.

It isn't long before he slows to a stop, and he feels Sans finally slacken beneath him, pinning his forearm between his back and the mattress. But Sans’ legs don't yet unwrap from around his hips, and though he's not as unrelentingly tight as a moment ago, Sans’ magic still pulses softly around his cock, coaxing a low groan from Papyrus.

“God… _Christ,_ ” he finally breathes, shakily moving to hover over the smaller skeleton. “Sans, that was…”

He trails off as he notices the dazed expression on Sans’ face, cheekbones still highlighted with a heavy shade of blue. But he cups his free hand to Sans’ face, and the smaller skeleton looks up at him, eyelights hazily coming back into focus.

“Hey there, kiddo,” Papyrus murmurs, his thumb tracing under Sans’ eyesocket. “You alright…?”

“Mnhh… m’fine, Paps,” Sans slurs back, his mouth softly curling into a lazy smile. “Just… y’know, you… gave me a real workout, heh.”

Papyrus chuckles, and briefly clicks his teeth to Sans’ before turning to nuzzle the side of his face. There's a soft shiver of a hum in Sans’ voice, but he tiredly returns the gesture, slowly uncurling his legs from around Papyrus’ waist as his magic finally dissolves. Papyrus is quick to follow suit, freeing his hand from underneath Sans to pull the smaller skeleton’s hoodie back down as he moves to lie beside him.

But even as Sans curls up against him, fingers lightly hooking into his thick orange hoodie, he can't shake the feeling that there's some thought, some _emotion_ that he can't put to words, but still needs to express…

“Mmmh… knock it off, will you?”

Papyrus gasps, quiet but unmistakable, and glances down at Sans.

“Sorry?” he asks, almost tripping over the word for a moment.

“Yeah, you should be,” Sans hums, rubbing his forehead against Papyrus’ shoulder as he softly stretches out. “Thinkin’ so loud, can't hear myself tryin’ to fall asleep over here… jeez.”

He blinks, but a soft chuckle soon escapes him, and he pulls Sans in a little closer against himself.

“Sorry, kiddo,” Papyrus murmurs, clicking his teeth to the other's forehead. “...let's get some rest.”

Sans purrs a soft sound of satisfaction, and he slackens further against Papyrus. It isn't long before the taller skeleton feels his chest’s natural rise and fall slow with his breathing, and Sans’ fingers loosen their hold on his sweater.

Papyrus sighs, letting the warm, calm ebb of Sans’ magic slowly lull him to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GOD, I'm here. It was hell getting here, but I'm here. Never abandoned the fic, but between work and depression there was nothing getting done.... not to mention I _literally_ rewrote the entire chapter. Almost twice. Hopefully it was worth it in the end.
> 
> Update schedule is going to be hopefully more often, but still sort of spotty; con season's coming up quick.


	22. Remorse

_ “Paps…? Hey, Paps…  _ **_Papyrus._ ** _ Wake up already, will ya…?” _

_ It’s the soft push of a hand on his shoulder that finally jars him awake, and Papyrus starts, managing a single blink before he sinks his head back into the pillow. _

_ “Mmgh… mornin’ kiddo,” he groans, rubbing the sleep from his eyesockets before closing them once more. “Y’sleep alright…?” _

_ “Must have, if I’m up before you are, buddy,” Sans chuckles, sidling up to Papyrus before propping his head in one hand. “What about you? You get any sleep?” _

_ “Mhm… I guess. Least, right up until  _ **_some_ ** _ body decided to wake me up, heh. Who could’ve done that, hm?” _

_ “I dunno, Paps, but they sure sound pretty rude for doing that. Lemme know if you ever figure out who did it.” _

_ Papyrus lets out a snort, and Sans chuckles at him, mouth pulled into a carefree grin as he rolls over onto the taller skeleton, unfazed by his low groan. _

_ “Jeez… thanks for that,” Papyrus grumbles, but he can only fake his frown for so long before he returns the other’s smile. “What, you tryin’ to crush the dream I had outta me?”  _

_ “Might be,” Sans admits, chin propped in his hands as he looks down at Papyrus, legs slowly kicking in the air. “Depends on what kinda dream you had, y’know? Whether it was a good one or not… What’d you dream about?” _

_ Papyrus pauses for a moment, but then slowly folds an arm behind his head, reaching towards Sans’ face with the other. _

_ “Nothing  _ **_that_ ** _ interesting, really,” the taller skeleton admits, tracing his fingertips along the curve of Sans’ cheekbone. “Just… us, doing all the same lazy shit we usually do, y’know? But… hm.” _

_ ‘‘Hm,’ he says… this could be quite serious, indeed.” _

_ “Smartass,” Papyrus hushes, lightly flicking Sans’ cheek even as they both chuckle. “I just… realized you seemed a lot happier than usual, in the dream. Kinda like now, actually. It’s… a good look for you, kiddo.” _

_ Sans blinks, then lets out a small laugh as his smile softens, and he rests his hand over Papyrus’, fingers tracing over the other’s. _

_ “Wow, Paps,” he hums, eyelights soft as he looks down at Papyrus. “I knew you were the sentimental type, but… that's pretty cheesy, even for you. I mean… it’s almost like you like me or somethin’, y’know?” _

_ Papyrus snorts, but the faint smirk only lingers briefly on his face before it relaxes, and his hand slides down to rest along Sans’ neck. _

_ “Yeah,” he agrees, voice low as he rubs his fingers gently between the smaller skeleton’s vertebrae. “‘Or something’... sounds about right to me.” _

_ “Mmh, Ph… Papyrus…” _

_ Encouraged by the low, pleased purr slipping from the other's throat, Papyrus pulls him in, feeling the soft click of his teeth against Sans’... _

His eyes snap open, sleep escaping without warning and leaving him unquestionably awake. Jarred by the sudden transition back to consciousness, Papyrus blinks, then reaches up to rub at his eyesockets, sinking back into the mattress.

_ Another dream… _

With a low sigh, he drops his hand from his face, rubbing along his jaw as he stares up at the ceiling.

“Mmh…”

“Hm…?”

Papyrus turns his head at the low sound, and finds Sans curled up beside him, still wrapped up in the calm lull of sleep. As he watches, the smaller skeleton shifts, and he presses his face lightly against Papyrus’ chest before settling once more. 

“...heh,” Papyrus chuckles quietly, finding Sans’ hand on his chest and lightly tracing the shape of his bones. “Sleepin’ well, I hope…”

Sans stirs momentarily, but only enough to stretch out his legs before he grows still once more. With another low chuckle, Papyrus curls his hand around Sans’, holding it gently before closing his eyes, sleep creeping back over him like a comfortable fog.

* * *

It’s with another sudden start that Papyrus jolts awake from his dreamless sleep -- but this time, it’s all he can do just to open his eyes under the lingering weight of sleep. With a low groan, he rubs at his face in a futile effort to brush away his exhaustion before stretching his arms overhead.

“... Oh, you’re finally up, huh? Sheesh… never thought  _ I’d _ be the early riser for once, heh.”

Papyrus cracks his eyes a little wider, and his vision finally focuses on the sight of Sans shuffling through the open door, coffee mug clutched in his hands and still clad only in the hoodie from last night.

“Hey, kiddo,” Papyrus greets, his voice still thick even as he starts a yawn. “You been up long?”

“Not really,” Sans shrugs, taking a seat beside Papyrus before taking a sip of his coffee. “Half hour, maybe? Thought about makin’ breakfast, but… didn’t wanna bother ya. Not after… y’know, everything that happened last night. B’sides, I wasn’t sure you would even wake up for it, you lazybones.”

Papyrus snorts, feebly swatting the other skeleton’s leg with the back of his hand -- and Sans himself lets out a small laugh before his smile falls, his gaze fixed on his mug.

“... I, uh… wanted to say thanks,” he finally mutters, after a few moments of silence. “For last night, I mean. For takin’ care of me, and… puttin’ up with my shitty behavior. It couldn’t have been easy to deal with, huh?”

“C’mon, Sans,” the taller skeleton sighs, with a trace of laughter in his voice as he lazily places a hand on Sans’ back. “I mean, yeah, I… wasn’t exactly thrilled with what happened, but I wasn’t gonna just let you be miserable. What kinda monster do you think I am?”

“... a better one than I am, I guess.”

The smile on Papyrus’ face fades, and he sits up, his hand sliding up Sans’ spine until it comes to rest on his shoulder. But Sans doesn’t react to the slow gesture, instead slowly turning the mug in his hands before taking another sip of his coffee.

“... you wanna talk about it, kiddo?” Papyrus asks, voice soft.

“Not, uh… not really, no,” Sans chuckles, tapping his fingertips along the side of the mug. “To be honest, I kinda… wanna forget it ever happened, but… well. That’s not gonna happen, is it? ...like a lot of other things that… aren’t gonna happen. Haha…”

The weak smile fades quickly from his face, and Sans slackens a bit, his eyelights dimmed as he continues tapping his cup. Papyrus hesitates, but then slowly pulls Sans close, until he can rest his chin against the top of the other skeleton’s skull.

“... heh.”

He’s not quite sure that he heard it correctly -- Sans’ laugh, little more than a sharp breath -- but there’s an unsettling feeling to the thrum of magic coursing through the smaller skeleton’s bones, and Papyrus tightens his hold, his fingers curling into the other’s hoodie.

“S’gonna be alright, kiddo,” he murmurs, clicking his teeth quietly against Sans’ skull. “Everything’s gonna be okay.”

“Hmh… you sayin’ that for your benefit or mine, pal?” Sans chuckles, not shifting away from Papyrus’ gesture. “‘Cause you seem pretty confident… What makes you so sure it’s all gonna work out, huh?”

“Well, I mean -- c’mon, Sans, it ain’t  _ all _ that bad, is it? Yeah, it’s... not what I’d call ideal, either, but… we know our brothers are okay, don’t we? And we can call ‘em whenever we want while Undyne works on a way to get you back home. And while she does that, you’re -- you’re not alone, y’know? I mean, you’ve got me, and I… I got you, and I’ll take care of you while you’re here, cause, I… Sans, I…”

Papyrus feels Sans stiffen against him, but it’s too late, as he tries to stop words tumbling out of his mouth:

“... I care about you, kiddo, I… care about you a lot, so… so, I…”

“...Papyrus, I, uh… you…”

He feels the deliberate pause in Sans’ voice, feels Sans grow rigid against him, until finally he hears, through gritted teeth:

“... you, uh… say some pretty cheesy things sometimes -- y’know that... right?”

Sans chuckles as he slowly pulls away -- and after a moment, Papyrus finds himself laughing quietly too, the knot in his throat sinking heavily into his chest.

“... thought you knew that by now, kiddo,” he shrugs, weakly rubbing Sans’ shoulder as he ignores the other’s forced smile. “It’s, uh... about the only thing I’m good at, besides, y’know… uh…”

The more he feels Sans’ eyes fixed on him, the further into his chest the knot sinks, deeper and heavier, until Papyrus finally looks away, gaze fixed on his lap.

“...y’know.”

The silence hangs heavy in the air for longer than he thought, but eventually, Papyrus hears Sans shift quietly against the mattress, and the light click of the coffee mug against his teeth. With a quiet fidget, Papyrus digs through his pockets, pulling out his cigarettes as casually as he can fake.

_ What did you think would happen? _

“...’m gonna go for a walk,” he murmurs, just loud enough to catch Sans’ attention. “Maybe to Muffet’s. … you want anything while I’m out?”

_ You thought you could fix everything for him? _

“...no, I’m… fine. Thanks.”

_ How? _

Papyrus says nothing of the hesitation in Sans’ voice, and rises to his feet, already pulling a cigarette from the pack and bringing it to his teeth as he steps out the room.

_ You just don’t know when to keep your mouth shut, do you? _

Without a pause in his step, Papyrus reaches back, grabbing the doorknob and pulling the door shut behind him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sour experience with a group of friends  
> New job (very good job)  
> New home (really tentative living situation atm)  
> No I haven't forgotten


End file.
